Alpha and Omega
by Imogen
Summary: Voldemort's grip on the wizarding world is tightening, and Dumbledore has a shocking suggestion for Harry. The seventh year sequel to 'Carpe Diem'.
1. The End of an Era

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_Here we have it – the long awaited sequel to 'Carpe Diem'. Hope you enjoy it as much. This should be of similar length, although the plot is going to be very different. Needless to say the characters and world all belong to JKR, and this disclaimer applies to all subsequent chapters._

_Please review if you're reading. I'm finding it quite demoralising to see that 200 people read per 5 reviews…_

**Alpha and Omega**

**Chapter 1: The End of an Era**

_"If you can dream and not make dreams your master;_

_If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim;_

_If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster_

_And treat those two impostors just the same."_

**-Rudyard Kipling: "If" **

Harry Potter woke with a start, heart thumping wildly against his ribs. He was drenched in cold sweat, and shaking, his scar throbbing dully on his forehead. He racked his brains to remember, simply recollecting a blinding flash of green light before his dream slipped elusively from his grasp like early summer mist.

Scrambling frantically out of bed, he leaned against his windowsill and stared beyond the confines of his room into the inky darkness, which engulfed Privet Drive, anxiously scouring the sky for any sign of the Dark Mark, yet nothing unusual was to be found. The luminous orange glow of the street lamps shone hazily through the night, casting a circle of light around each post, with night's eager fingers stretching to fill in the gaps between them. The rows of neatly manicured front gardens with their little low fences stretched away to left and right as far as he could see. Nothing ever changed in Privet Drive. This was much the same as it had looked for as long as he could remember, with everything perfectly in its place. Muggle suburbia. Home of the Dursleys.

He turned restlessly and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the inside of his wardrobe door. He regarded his reflection for a moment. He'd certainly grown a great deal in the past year, and now had to stoop slightly to see his full image in the glass, but much of his appearance remained the same as it always had. The black mop of hair, which stuck out untidily at all angles, the distinctive green of his eyes, and the little round glasses, which he thoughtfully pushed back up his nose, none of them had changed. His face, however, appeared to be much older, more aware, and Harry suspected that this was to do with some of his recent experiences, as he'd been forced to mature very quickly this last year. He couldn't help but wonder what Voldemort just been doing to wake him up like this.

Harry impatiently pushed his hair aside and examined the scar, which zigzagged across his forehead and still twinged painfully from his dream. He had got that lightning bolt scar when Voldemort had tried to murder him when he was little more than a baby, and Harry was aware that the most evil wizard the world had ever known still intended to kill him now. No harm could ever come to him whilst under the care of the Dursleys, Dumbledore had seen to that, but now that he was leaving that protection, his future was very uncertain. 

He vaguely traced the aching scar with his finger, and his troubled expression relaxed into a small smile. That scar linked him with Ginny, and touching it was almost like having her there beside him. He wondered if it had woken her too. A couple of years ago she'd performed an ancient charm on him so they could share between them the excruciating agony Harry experienced in his forehead when Voldemort was near, or in a particularly murderous mood. The bond the charm had created between them blossomed into love, strengthened further by everything they'd been through together. 

Throwing himself back on his bed, he stretched out and listened intently to the silence of the night, punctuated only by Uncle Vernon's rattling snores. There was no soft hooting tonight, as Hedwig's cage was empty; she had flown with a message to Ginny two days ago, and, knowing how much his owl hated travelling by Floo Powder, Harry had asked if she could stay at The Burrow until he arrived himself. This was to be his final night in Privet Drive, but what was notable about this particular occasion, was that Harry was now moving into his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and although he would complete his studies just before his eighteenth birthday, he had no intention of returning to the Dursleys for those last few weeks. It was time for a new start, a new life and he was never coming back.

He was impatient to reach The Burrow, not only to see Ron, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, but because he was strangely alienated from the wizarding world here in Privet Drive. This made him feel very anxious about those he cared about, and their letters were barely enough to reassure him that Voldemort had not attacked. He had awaited each owl with increasing restlessness over the summer, and was trying not to fret about Sirius, his Godfather, who was currently incommunicado on some sort of mission against Voldemort in Transylvania. He wished he were of age so that he could do something active in the fight, rather than feeling completely useless here at Privet Drive.

He sighed heavily, and reached for the piece of parchment that lay on his bedside table. Rolling onto his stomach, he propped himself up on his elbows and began to re-read the last epistle he'd received from Ginny. A broad smile spread across his face, as he could almost hear her animated voice talking to him through the written words.

_"Harry,_

_Thanks for your last letter. I can't believe they're still treating you like that. Well, I can believe it, but I'd rather not. Are you sure you're OK? Just hang on in there, and you'll be back here before you know it. I miss you, and I'm counting down the hours until I see you again. 5pm on Friday. I can't wait…"_

Harry couldn't wait either. He'd actually made arrangements with Mr Weasley so that he could travel to The Burrow earlier, in time for lunch, and hadn't told Ginny. The opportunity to catch her unawares was simply too good to pass up. It was now less than ten hours before he'd see her again and he could just imagine the look on her face when he sneaked up behind her… Still smiling, Harry pulled off his glasses, hugged his pillow towards him in his arms and closed his eyes. Blissful drowsiness swept quickly over him, and for once nightmares were absent as he fell asleep.

*****

Harry squeezed into the empty seat in the tiny space beside Dudley at the kitchen table, and silently reached for a slice of toast, each precision cut by Aunt Petunia into an equal sized triangle, and stacked in regimented rows. Harry was convinced that she must use a setsquare on every slice, as nothing else could create such a regular shape.

"Wash your hands, boy," Uncle Vernon bellowed, without even bothering to look from behind his morning copy of the newspaper. "Don't they teach you anything in that school of yours?"

"Plenty of things," Harry retorted, suddenly unwilling to put up with this behaviour from his uncle any longer. "You know, like…**_magic_**?" At the very word, the newspaper rustled furiously, and was hurled down forcibly on the table. Uncle Vernon materialised from behind the pages, purple faced, his moustache bristling, and his jaw hanging unattractively open in sheer outrage that Harry had dared to answer him back. His temper exploded.

"How many times have I told you, boy. You are never to mention your…your _unnaturalness_ under this roof?"

"Hundreds," said Harry calmly, beginning to butter his toast without having washed his hands. 

"How dare you!" Uncle Vernon roared, saliva forming in the corners of his mouth with rage. Dudley's tiny piggy eyes looked up with instant interest. This scene clearly had the potential to be far more interesting than the television that was currently babbling away in the background. "We've fed and clothed your ungrateful hide for sixteen years, and you have the audacity to throw it back in our faces."

"The clothes were Dudley's cast offs," Harry remarked, crunching blithely into his toast.

"That's besides the point," Uncle Vernon blustered furiously, more enraged by Harry's manner than what he was saying. "You should be grateful we even did that, especially given your _abnormality._"

"Ah, yes. Being a… **_wizard,_**" Harry stressed the final word heavily. "I'll be fully qualified in about ten months. That should make next summer very pleasant for us all, shouldn't it." He grinned to himself as he watched Uncle Vernon's face contort painfully as his mind wrestled with the concept of what Harry could actually do to them when he was allowed to use magic outside of school. Harry had deliberately omitted to tell his relatives that he wasn't coming back, and consequently Uncle Vernon wore an expression of such disgust, revulsion and fear that he looked as though he was trying to swallow a blast-ended skrewt in his effort not to lose his temper with Harry.

"Harrumph," he snorted, and snatched his paper up again, shaking out the pages furiously and submerging his crimson face behind the sheets.

Harry tried hard not to laugh out loud, but it was extremely difficult. At his words, Aunt Petunia turned very pale, and clutched the kitchen sink in an attempt to steady herself, deep rasping breaths shaking her bony frame. Dudley's eyes widened in pure horror at the intimation, and he was currently trying to shuffle his chair as far away from Harry as he could manage. Dudley's fear of adult wizards had clearly not diminished since his encounter with Hagrid many years before had resulted in a pig's tail protruding from the seat of his trousers.

Suddenly, an image on the television screen caught Harry's attention and sobered him instantly. He silently shifted backwards for a clearer view of the screen and listened intently.

_"Police were called in to investigate after neighbours reported a disturbance in the early hours of this morning. Upon breaking in to the property in Laburnum Grove, they discovered the body of Perseus Appleby. Early forensic reports have been unable to establish any cause of death, and this combined with no signs of violence and a complete lack of evidence have once again baffled the police. This is the latest in a series of identical murders, stretching the length of the country over the past two years…"_

Harry turned away from the television, and studied his toast carefully, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach.He could picture what had happened in Laburnum Grove very clearly indeed. The Apparition of Death Eaters, those darkly hooded and cloaked figures looming, laughing, as they circled the pitiful figure on the floor. The torture their victim would have suffered as the Unforgivable Curses were cast upon him one by one: Imperius, Cruciatus, and finally the one to end it all, and the flash of green light he'd seen in his dream, the Avada Kedavara. 

His chair scraped back along the kitchen floor, and he found his feet running back up the stairs, carrying him to his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him, and he leaned against it breathing deeply. It sounded like things were getting worse. He could remember the same experiences so well: the merciless laughter, the agony of the Cruciatus Curse ripping through him sending every inch of his body screaming in torment. Then, there was what Voldemort had done to Ginny. He shivered. In a fit of nervous energy, he spent the next hour or so packing, and repacking his trunk, restlessly checking beneath the loose floorboard time and time again for forgotten quills, or pieces of parchment, searching for spare socks, until finally he could do no more. He took one last look around the room, and nodded. It was time to go.

Harry was always bad at waiting, and this time was worse than ever as he impatiently watched the living room clock, the pointers slowly, slowly dragging themselves so reluctantly towards noon. Aunt Petunia was covering all of the furniture with white sheeting, smoothing the corners with hospital-style creases and removing everything of value from sight. Harry knew how much she despised this mess in her pristine house, but her fear of magic was paramount, so she chewed her tongue and said nothing. Dudley was nowhere to be seen, and Uncle Vernon stood, filling the doorway with his massive bulk almost as if he was trying to barricade the rest of the house into safety.

The Westminster chimes sounded gently through the room from the golden carriage clock on the mantelpiece, and Aunt Petunia caught her breath, her hand fluttering to the pearls at her throat in fear.

"Vernon," she whispered, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers. "It's midday."

"There'll be no nonsense this time," Uncle Vernon threatened, beginning to turn purple once more. "You hear me, boy?"

"Fine," Harry muttered, desperately wanting to get out of there with as little fuss as possible.

A sudden pop, and Mr Weasley appeared out of nowhere, right by the fireplace.

"Ah, there you are, Harry," he said, smiling benignly at him. "How are you? Good summer, I hope?" 

"Er… not bad," Harry grinned at him, suddenly feeling a lot better about everything.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley, nice to see you too," Mr Weasley continued, offering his hand, which Uncle Vernon pointedly ignored. "Ah, yes. Right," Mr Weasley said, looking slightly abashed and rather flustered. "Well, we'd better get a move on, Harry. It's lunchtime at work and I've not got long. Have you got everything?"

"Right here," Harry said, indicating his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

Mr Weasley, waved his wand at the electric fire, which promptly exploded and shot across the room, leaving a gaping hole in the ornate stone fireplace. The fire bounced off the sofa and landed with a thump on the deep pile of the living room carpet. Aunt Petunia moaned to see her beautiful home decimated like this once more, even though she knew it would be impeccably restored as soon as her nephew had gone.

"Go!" Uncle Vernon growled, moving towards his wife. "Get out of my sight, boy."

"Well, I'll… er… I'll see you then," Harry said, wondering if he would ever set eyes on them again. He smiled at Mr Weasley and shrugged. He had expected it to be like this. His trunk was balanced, end on, in the fire place, and Harry squeezed in beside it, enjoying the warmth of the flames that were gently licking around his legs.

"The Burrow!" he cried, and caught one final glimpse of his Aunt and Uncle before the whirling, twisting sensation filled his senses as he was hurtled along, eyes tightly closed. The feeling of being thrown, and tumbled as if in the midst of a storm at sea, was slightly unpleasant, but he soon felt himself slowing and flung out his hands to prevent his usual inelegant entrance of sprawling across the Weasley's kitchen floor.

"Harry!" Ron's delighted voice greeted him, and Harry straightened up, grinning widely at his best friend.

The Burrow's kitchen was small, crowded and chaotic, yet one of the most friendly and welcoming places Harry had ever known in his life. It was hard to imagine anywhere that could provide a greater contrast with 4, Privet Drive. The scrubbed deal table where Ron was sitting dominated the room, and other surfaces, like the old Welsh dresser were almost buried under mountains of parchment, hundreds of framed wizard photographs of all seven of the Weasley children and assorted cookery books with titles such as _'Magic and Mushrooms. One hundred favourite recipes.'_

"Harry, dear!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed a little breathlessly, as she hugged him tightly. "Lovely to see you."

"You too," he smiled at her, blushing a little from her affectionate attention, but it was true, it felt incredibly good to be back here. She stood back and regarded him seriously.

"They've not been feeding you properly," she commented, frowning slightly. She waved her wand, and slices of bread instantly shot out of a wooden container onto the kitchen work surface, where they began to dance with fragments of ham and salad. Harry ducked quickly to avoid a plate that was whisked across the kitchen, it collected the sandwiches, and gently wafted down onto the table right in front of him.

"Now eat!" she instructed, smiling fondly at him. "Ginny's down by the river. You can go and see her when you're done here." 

"Thanks," Harry grinned, and settled down at the table, feeling completely ravenous. She nodded in satisfaction, and then bustled out of the room with a basketful of clean laundry. "How's your summer been?" he asked Ron, through a mouthful of sandwich. "Heard from Hermione lately?"

"Yeah," Ron said shortly. Harry looked quizzically up at him, and Ron shrugged. "Don't ask," he said flatly. "She's arriving later today anyway."

"Ah! OK," said Harry, wondering what on earth was going on between them now. He was momentarily distracted by something in the photograph of a younger Fred and George exploding, and engulfing the two perpetrators in billowing clouds of lilac smoke. They emerged coughing, with identical expressions of sheer delight. Harry chuckled to himself.

"How's the joke shop doing?" he asked, steering the conversation well away from Hermione.

"It's great," Ron said enthusiastically. "If Mum and Dad'll let us, maybe we could go through to Diagon Alley one day this week, and you can see. They've come up with some brilliant new stuff, you know, sweets that completely dissolve your tongue for five minutes, that sort of stuff."

"Sounds like they're having fun then," Harry said

"Too true," Ron laughed. "I warn you now though, don't use any soap you find in the bathroom. They've not got it quite right yet, and it took Percy a week to get the purple stain off his hands. You can just imagine how well that went down. We got a whole seven days of how it was compromising his position in the ministry of Magic_._"

Harry laughed at this very creditable impersonation of Percy's fussiest voice and took a final bite of sandwich. A picture of Ginny could be seen over Ron's shoulder winking cheekily at him, her face alight with laughter. His insides quivered.

"And Ginny?" he asked seriously.

"Worried about you," Ron chuckled. "Honestly, the pair of you are as bad as each other. It's a wonder Hedwig didn't collapse this summer with all those letters. Go on then, go and see her."

Harry got to his feet, blushing slightly but with an irrepressible grin on his face, the excitement fluttering in his stomach like an assortment of exuberant Cornish pixies.

"See you later then," he said, and set off into the bright sunlight, running across the rambling and overgrown garden towards the river.


	2. All

_Thank you so much for all the reviews for Chapter 1. I feel very inspired by you all! Please keep reviewing for me – it makes all the difference in the world to hear if you're enjoying it or not!_

_JKR's characters and world._

_BTW – will it make any difference to anyone if I shift the rating to PG-13? Nothing too dramatic, I promise._

**All's Fair In Love and War**

"Know one false step is ne'er retrieved…

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes

And heedless hearts, is lawful prize."

Thomas Gray: "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes"

Harry set out from the cool darkness of the Weasley's kitchen into the blindingly bright sunshine of the day. It was glorious; he squinted up at the sun shining high in the sky, the blueness sparsely dotted with the tiniest freckles of clouds. Grinning happily at this reminder of Ginny, he sped up, running down the garden and twisting his way round the now familiar bushes. A sunbathing gnome shrieked in outrage as Harry trod on his diminutive hat when he passed by. Harry barely slowed to shout an apology over his shoulder, and saw the tiny potato-like creature shaking his fist furiously at his retreating heels. He laughed in amusement, and vaulted over the wooden fence into the meadow.

The long whispering grasses swayed hypnotically this way and that in the breeze, like an undulating verdant sea, interspersed with brightest red poppies as far as the ridge. He hurried onwards, ignoring the stalks grasping at his legs as he passed, until he paused for breath beneath the old gnarled oak tree, which stood dominating the valley. Ottery St. Catchpole lay before him, curled up sleepily at the foot of the steep hill on the opposite bank, but Harry paid no attention to the pretty little village, with its windows glinting gold as they reflected the sunlight. The river snaked across the valley floor, clumps of shady trees overhanging the water, and his eyes surveyed the landscape, seeking a very particular spot. Ginny had discovered this place of hers years ago, right on the river bank itself, quiet and peaceful, and remarkably safe from her brothers' teasing. He knew she'd be there. Anticipation building, he plunged over the edge and ran, legs thudding heavily against the gradient of the slope as he descended. Stealthily he crept onwards beside the river itself, heart beating quickly as he neared his goal. He could make out her vibrantly red hair through the overhanging foliage, and shuffled slightly nearer, watching her carefully and smiling to himself. She was reading and completely oblivious to his presence. He had to admit she looked very comfortable there, reclining part way along a branch of a very ancient tree, that stretched out low above the water, before reaching upwards for sunlight. Her right leg dangled casually downwards, naked toe touching the surface of the river, creating little ripples as she moved.A wide grin spread across his face. He tiptoed quietly forwards, and steadily rounded the trunk of the tree, almost holding his breath in expectation. A twig cracked under his careless foot, and startled, she looked up, her russet hair dancing around her. "Harry!" she yelled with delight, her face glowing with pleasure. She scrambled quickly to her feet, and ran back down the branch to the riverbank, throwing her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly and swung her round, his face hidden in her hair, never, never wanting to let her go.

"I've missed you _so_ much," he whispered, voice muffled from where it was still buried.

"Tell me about it," she murmured. "It's only been four weeks this time, but it's felt longer than ever."

He looked at her, unable to stop smiling, holding her tightly all the while. He loved every bit of her, from the freckles scattered across her nose to the enticing liquid pools of her brown eyes, where he felt he could wallow for all eternity. She stretched up on tiptoes, and their lips met, at first with a tingling gentleness. A wave of warm, welcoming darkness washed over him, as he gave himself up to the sensation, kissing her ever more deeply, his right hand tangled in the fiery depths of her hair.

They finally broke apart, and he gazed in awe at her, marvelling that she could ever love him as much as she did. She simply grinned, and led him by the hand back up to where she'd been sitting before he'd disturbed her. She curled up beside him, and he leaned back against the sturdiness of the tree, adoring the feel of her cradled in his arms. This was perfect.

"Harry," she said thoughtfully, after an interlude of idle banter. "I know we said we wouldn't, but _do_ you ever think about the future?" She twisted round a little to face him, and wobbled precariously on the branch. Harry tightened his grip on her before she tumbled into the river and kissed her forehead gently.

"Sometimes," he admitted. "I wonder what things might be like without Voldemort to threaten us, what we could be doing in ten years time. What do you think about?"

"Next year for a start," she said gloomily, swinging her leg, and sending little droplets of water splashing from her toe to the riverbank. "Supposing we get through this one in one piece, that's a whole year we're going to have to spend apart after you've finished at school, and these past four weeks have been torture enough. I don't want that to happen, Harry."

"Owls just aren't the same, are they?" he said, smoothing her wayward hair back from her face with his hand. "There's no easy answer to that one, Gin."

"I know," she grumbled. "What are you going to do with yourself after school anyway?" She chuckled and her eyes sparkled with a little mischief. "Imagine, I could have a famous Quidditch player as my boyfriend, or a world class Auror, or maybe even the next Minister of Magic!"

"Not a chance," Harry laughed along with her. "I'm afraid you're just going to have to put up with _'The famous Harry Potter._'" His voice took on a serious tone as he added, "You know what it's like, Ginny. I really can't see Voldemort leaving me alone for long enough to do anything once I'm out of Hogwarts. It'll only be him and me then, no Dumbledore around. He might not even leave it that long; I'm seventeen tomorrow, which technically means I can meet him as an adult wizard on his terms."

"I know," she whispered, fear showing in the darkness of her eyes. She ran her hand thoughtfully down his cheek, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. There was a pause before she spoke again in a deceptively bright tone. "So what will we be doing in ten years time, then?"

"Well, let me see," Harry leaned back again, pulling her in closely to him. "I expect you'll have a new book of Muggle poems by then, and I won't have any socks left at all."

She sat up and giggled, slapping him affectionately.

"No, seriously Harry!"

"I just want to be with you," he said simply, smiling at her. "Nothing else matters."

"Really?" she whispered incredulously, her soft brown eyes searching his.

"Really," he assured her, smiling at her expression. "Where do you want to be in a decade? Married with umpteen kids? A high flying career as Poet Laureate of the wizarding world?"

"I wish I knew," she giggled at the image of herself in formal regalia with such a serious position in life. "It'd be nice to get married one day. Do you want to, Harry?"

"Is that a proposal?" he teased her, chuckling gently.

"No," she spluttered in a new wave of laughter. "I just wondered, that's all; we've never talked about the future before. Do you want a huge tribe of offspring and a life filled with arguments over whose turn it is to do the washing up?"

"I'd like a family of my own at some point," he said slowly, mulling the matter over in his mind. "I don't know. It's stupid, I suppose, but it's something… something I've never had. Not really."

"That's not stupid, Harry," she said softly, leaning over to kiss him.

The kiss caught him quite by surprise, the gentle warmth and love contained within it reflected every bit of his own emotions for Ginny; yet there was something more. A sense of passion and urgency were tangible, which he recognised all too well, drawing him to her. Harry tried to force his brain to think. A wave of desire swept over him as he instinctively responded to her touch, bodies melting together. Fragmented thoughts flitted through his mind; abductions into various Hogwarts broom cupboards on the way to lessons… Ginny's confession at the end of term that, unlike her brothers, she didn't mind much where he put his hands… and…and they'd talked about this before, hadn't they?

He pulled away sharply, and stared at her, heart pounding erratically in his chest. They'd agreed this couldn't happen; Voldemort was too much of a threat to her already. She ran her hands up to his shoulders sending shivers of pleasure through him, stretching up to dissolve in a kiss once more.

"Gin, no," his voice sounded slightly strangled. "We can't…" She looked at him directly with a mischievous glint in her eye, and moved even closer, trailing kisses, her warm breath brushing seductively at his skin.

"Stop it," he groaned, realising that there was no way he could escape from her. "Ginny, come on. It's not funny."

He heard a low chuckle beside his ear, and realised she was doing this to him quite deliberately. Pausing for a second, he knew it was time for drastic action and there was only one way to go. He grinned wickedly to himself. Gathering her swiftly in his arms, he hooked his legs tightly round the branch for balance, and unceremoniously dropped her into the river.

There was a short squeak of surprise, followed by a loud splash. She surfaced quickly, water streaming from her darkened red hair like a seal. She shook her head, droplets of water flying everywhere, and regarded him, wearing a half-amused expression, as she trod water.

"Has that cooled your ardour?" Harry grinned down at her. She swam up to the branch and regarded him with enormous dark brown eyes, showing a look of anguish that tugged painfully at his heartstrings. Her arm reached out to him, and he guiltily leaned over to haul her out, realising slightly too late what she was up to. A swift pull, and he overbalanced, tumbling headfirst into the icy coldness of the water.

Soaked to the skin they struggled back to the bank, laughing uncontrollably. Harry collapsed in a heap, trying to catch his breath, and pulled his shoes off, ostentatiously draining the water they contained back into the river. Ginny caught his eye, and grinned impishly at him, before wringing water from her skirt, straggling hair dripping everywhere around her. He saw her shiver in the slight breeze of the day, and quickly got to his feet, clothes sticking unpleasantly to him.

"C'mon," he said, grabbing her books up from the ground, and reaching for her hand. "We'd better get back, although how we're going to explain this…?" He broke off, shook his head at her and began laughing again.

"Well, I think we're just going to have to brazen it out," she chuckled. "The odds of us sneaking through our kitchen unnoticed are pretty much nil, but if we're quick about it, at least we'll not run into Fred and George.

Squelching their way back to the Burrow, Harry reflected that this was possibly not the most romantic way to spend the afternoon with Ginny, but it was good to be laughing for a change; there'd been little enough of that in recent weeks. They slunk in through the back door, exchanging glances of suppressed hilarity. Ginny pressed her finger to her lips, and peered cautiously ahead. They were in luck; the place was unusually deserted. Leaving a shining trail of water in their wake, they crept through the kitchen and the hallway to the stairwell. The second from bottom step creaked noisily as Harry trod on it, and they froze, hearts beating nervously, listening carefully for movement. Nothing. Ginny giggled softly, and they hurried up the stairs to the doorway of her room.

"Good luck," she whispered, pulling him close and kissing him quickly. "Hope Ron's not up there. See you if you survive." She grinned mischievously at him, and disappeared into her bedroom.

Harry groaned, and trudged soggily up the next flight of stairs towards the eaves of the house and Ron's room, lured by the blissful thought of dry clothing. The sound of raised voices in full torrent became audible from within, and he paused with his hand on the doorknob, wondering what he should do. He could hardly go back downstairs in this state, the ghoul wasn't sounding too happy as he clanked around in the attic above, and behind the door in front of him awaited a fate far, far worse than death.

"I don't know what made you think that!" Hermione's voice snapped. "I've never done anything of the sort and you know it!"

"That's not the point," Ron protested vehemently. "Hermione!"

"What?" she yelled furiously. "It's bad enough having you saying all this stuff, but to actually believe it!"

"Well, it _is_ true," Ron said, sounding surprisingly certain of himself. "Isn't it?"

"How dare you!" she hissed, sounding angrier than Harry had ever heard her before. "If this is how you think of me, well… well, I'm not sure there's any point in-"

"Will you listen, for once?" Ron interrupted furiously. "I've thought about nothing else all summer, Hermione. This is driving me mad." There was a pause, his voice softened and he added, "You know how I feel about you, and that's not going to change, whatever you say."

"I know," she said, sighing heavily. "And I feel the same, but Ron…"

"I know you're right," he said, and Harry heard footsteps crossing the room. "I s'pose I… I should've thought more about what I said in that letter."

"It's not just that," she replied. Harry was relieved to hear that her rage appeared to be subsiding as well. "What would've happened if Pig had delivered it to the wrong person? You know what he's like."

"Yeah," Ron said bleakly. "You've made it pretty clear what you think about the whole thing."

"No I haven't," her voice said, so softly Harry could barely hear her. "Ron, I…"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I've really stuffed things up, haven't I? I've been behaving like a real git."

"Not really," she chuckled, the tension evaporating. "A lot of what you said was true. We'll talk more about it later, though. Harry'll be back soon. You haven't forgotten it's his birthday tomorrow, have you?"

"Would I?" he protested sounding quite injured by the suggestion. There was a gentle giggle from within and quietness followed.

Harry heaved a silent sigh of relief. Ron and Hermione argued regularly enough, but it could get quite unpleasant, although it was generally short lived. He crept down and then noisily thudded back up a few stairs to give Ron and Hermione a chance to realise that he was there. It was that Weasley temper, he reflected ruefully. Ron exploded easily, and that was bad enough, but on the rare occasions when Ginny lost it, you knew it was time to dive for cover and hope that you were eaten by a mountain troll before she found you.

"Hi there," he called, as he pushed the door open, and walked into the orange brilliance that Ron called his bedroom.

"Harry!" Hermione rushed over to hug him and stopped dead. "You're all wet."

"Am I?" he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I wonder how that could have happened. You know, I was so careful, but sometimes these rivers come out of nowhere and just attack you."

"You upset Ginny, then?" Ron chuckled. "That was quick. What did she do? Throw you in or something?"

"Something like that," Harry laughed, pulling his shoes back off and sticking them on the windowsill to dry.

"You'll catch your death of cold if you stay in those wet things," Hermione said, sounding rather like Mrs Weasley for a second. "You really should get changed."

"Yes, but…" Harry began.

"Hermione!" Ron's shocked voice interrupted, and both boys looked at her incredulously.

"Oh yes," she blushed and bit her lip. "I'll… er… I think I'll just go and see how Ginny's getting on, shall I? Yes, I think that might be a very good idea. I'll… um… see you later, then." Still looking rather embarrassed she edged out of the door, and they heard her heading down the stairs.

"You two got things sorted out then?" Harry asked Ron, as he peeled off layers of cold, sodden clothing. Ron stretched back on his Chudley Cannons bedspread, and shrugged his shoulders at Harry.

"Who knows?" he said. "Anyway, dare I ask what you've been doing to my little sister to deserve being chucked in the river?"

"Threw her in first," Harry laughed, quickly rubbing himself dry with a towel.

"Er… right," Ron said, looking slightly bewildered by the explanation. "Yes, I think that would probably explain a lot." He paused, clearly thinking about the incident and shook his head. "I'm not going to ask. It's probably best if I don't know."

"She can't have pinched my socks already!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, rummaging through his trunk for a dry pair. "It's impossible. She was down by the river when I got here, and she's not been up since we got back. How does she do it?"

"Bribery and corruption," Ron grinned over at him. "She is a Weasley after all!"

The evening was drawing on, mellow sunlight casting a warm glow around the three figures in the living room, whilst the wireless in the corner was playing soft music from the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry was engaged in a game of chess with Ron, and was losing badly, his chessmen casting him baleful glares and arguing with him about his every move. Ginny was sprawled over an armchair, half-reading and half-laughing at Harry's inept efforts.

"No, use the pawn, Harry. That one, over there," she gesticulated at it and chuckled as it waved back to her. "Don't move the bishop, or he's got a direct line of attack."

"Hey!" Ron protested, throwing a cushion at his sister. "Let him lose on his own. He doesn't need you to help him."

The door swung open and Hermione wandered in, looking a lot happier than Harry had seen her earlier in the day. Ron grinned up at her and shuffled over to make room for her. She surveyed the game of chess carefully.

"Aren't you going to move your bishop?" she asked Harry, curiously, seeing his hand hovering beside the pawn. "It means you can take that pawn next turn."

"That's my girl!" Ron beamed at her, whilst Ginny choked.

Suddenly their attention was distracted by a crackle from the radio, before the clear, precise tones of the WWN newsreader wafted across the airwaves. Harry saw Ron look quickly at Ginny, and both of their faces became instantly grave.

"Disturbing new developments have stunned the entire wizarding community, as the grip of He Who Must Not Be Named appears to be tightening. Perseus Appleby, a researcher within the Ministry of Magic, was killed by Death Eaters in the early hours of this morning. Appleby had been engaged in consolidating the confining spells on some of the more dangerous magical creatures, and his death has lead to breakdowns in the network of protective spells. Although at this point in time it is impossible to know the full extent of the damage, a chimaera attacked a group of Muggle tourists near Carlisle and other allies of the Dark Lord are still at large. The Minister of Magic has refused to comment on today's events, but his spokesman recommended that the curfew, that was established last week, is maintained for security reasons."

Harry stared at Ron, his throat suddenly so dry it felt like sandpaper.

"What's been going on?" he croaked, leaping to his feet, his breathing slightly unsteady and legs trembling beneath him. "Why hasn't anyone been telling me all this?"

"It's bad, Harry," Ron said bleakly, looking more anxious than ever. "These last four weeks things have been getting worse. Dementors coming across from Azkaban to feed on emotions, or worse, every time they feel like it; giants attacking some people in the North; and the Death Eaters… well, you know what they're like."

"They've recommended we're all locked in our homes by six every evening," Ginny explained, looking rather white. "Most of the serious incidents happen late at night. We didn't tell you, because you were safe with the Dursley's. If we _had_ told you…" Her voice trailed off, and Harry's heart melted as he looked at her frightened face.

"It's OK, Ginny," he said softly. "I understand."

"What are The Ministry of Magic trying to do about it?" Hermione asked quickly.

"I don't think they know," Ron said, getting up from the floor. "Dad should be back any minute, and he'll probably be able to tell us what's really happened today. He's at the office every second he can be right now, even gets called out sometimes after curfew, and you can imagine how Mum feels about that."

Noise was emanating from the kitchen; pots and pans were thudding and crashing far harder than was usual, and Harry followed Ron to see what was happening. Mrs Weasley was rummaging through cupboards and slammed a large metal pot onto the stove with a resounding clang.

"Mum?" Ginny pushed past and hurried over to her. "What is it? Here, let me do that." She knelt down and started to stack things tidily back on the shelf.

"Look at the time," Mrs Weasley moaned, waving her wand vaguely at the potatoes, which scrambled across the bench and dropped into the sink. "They should have been back by now. All of them should."

"They've got ten minutes yet, Mum," Ron said reassuringly, moving her towards a chair. "That's loads of time when you're Apparating."

"Did you hear that news report?" she said, her voice rising in panic. "They should be home."

A sudden popping noise heralded the arrival of Fred and George at the opposite side of the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" Fred said cheerfully. "Mum! Not again!" he protested, as he was almost bowled over by his mother enveloping first him, then his twin in massive hugs.

"I think she just likes strangling us," George commented, massaging his throat. "Diagon Alley's still safe, you know Mum. It's probably one of the best protected places in England."

"Just because it was yesterday, doesn't mean to say it is today," she snapped, wiping her eyes. "Anything could have happened."

Another pop and Percy arrived, narrowly missing landing on Hermione, closely followed by a very weary-looking Mr Weasley.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Mrs Weasley cried. "Arthur, what _has_ been going on today?"


	3. An Uninvited Guest

AO3

**_If you're reading, please leave a review behind you! JKR's characters and world._**

_ _

_"If I am afraid at all_

_It's only in my dreams."_

-Maya Angelou: "Life Doesn't Frighten Me."

** **

**An Uninvited Guest**

_The coldness of the stone floor penetrated through his bones; numbing ache bringing a welcome dullness to the torment which still raged through his frame. He lifted his head limply in the darkness; the total absence of daylight removed all hope. There was no escape. There was nothing: just the wish for oblivion. Death._

_Sudden bright light was scorching through his brain, the beam making him wince, recoiling away from the black hooded figure. The pain intensified, jerking and twisting his body with involuntary spasms. The chanted repetition, hammering relentlessly:_

_"Tell us… tell us…"_

_Screaming. Wild uncontrolled shrieks of agony, blurred with merciless laughter. The sensation of a cold metal blade against his bare flesh, cutting through it with throbbing savagery. More hooded figures, swimming in and out of focus before his eyes._

_"Tell us…"_

_"I will not!"_

_Ginny. He had to keep her safe. Blood dripped, splashing on the flags below. A dizzying sensation. Fighting, struggling against the bonds that confined him. He couldn't move, but he had to. He couldn't let them…The agony was back, worse than before. No air. He couldn't breathe. He had to…_

"Harry?"

_Hands gently touched him. He flinched._

"Harry, you're safe. I promise," Ginny's voice calmly broke through the torment, offering him a lifeline. Her hand grasped his tightly.

He opened his eyes, trembling violently and drenched in the cold sweat of pure terror. 

Ron's room. 

He was in Ron's room. The orange paint was oddly reassuring in the inky blueness of the night, as he tried to collect his breathing and reassure himself that these were memories, only one of those many visions that regularly haunted his sleep. 

"It's OK," she whispered, smoothing his damp hair back from his forehead. "Everything's fine."

"Sorry," he mumbled shakily, his heart thumping heavily against his ribs. "I didn't mean to wake you again."

"I'm glad the scar woke me," she said softly, caressing her hand down his cheek. "That sounded like it was a bad one; I can't believe Ron slept through it." She nodded across the lump on the bed in the corner that was her brother, soft snores emanating from him in a regular soothing rhythm.

"Yeah," he responded, sitting up to wrap his arms around her, and leaning his forehead against hers. He gave her a wry smile. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Don't be silly," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I'm hardly going to let you suffer through all that on your own, am I?" She sighed softly, and looked steadily into his eyes before voicing her question. "It was last March again, wasn't it?"

Harry nodded silently, the fear gripping his stomach again as little images burned into his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling himself still shaking in her embrace. She said nothing, but simply held him; her hair tickled against his nose, bringing with it a pleasing sense of the real world, rather than those nightmarish remembrances. 

"I'm OK, Gin," he said at last, grinning a little at her. "You'd better get back; you'll be murdered if anyone finds you in here."

"Not if I can help it," she chuckled quietly, so as not to wake Ron. "Anyway, this is far easier than when you were having these dreams at Hogwarts. I had to get past four other people then, not just my brother, to make sure you were all right!"

"Ginny," Harry whispered, feeling horribly guilty. He couldn't articulate what he wanted to say, and had to resort to squeezing her fingers.

"Shove up," she said suddenly, with a warm smile on her face.

"W-what?" Harry stammered, obediently retreating towards the wall. "Gin?"

"Nothing like that," she chuckled, curling up beside him, and kissing him gently. "You need to talk this through, and I want to be with you. We could go downstairs if you want, but at least if we're caught here, we can point out that Ron's been with us the whole time."

Harry reached for her, and held her close, face buried in her sunshine scented hair, reminding him of the wildness of the fields and meadow. Very slowly he began to recount his dream, Ginny helping where he faltered and feared to continue.

"And the _Constrictum_ spell?" she asked quietly.

"How did you know?" he whispered, his voice seeming hoarse as it caught in his throat.

"I had the same dream," she responded softly, her brown eyes fixed upon his own. "It wasn't _just_ the scar that woke me tonight, Harry. It was your dream."

*****

Consciousness gradually came upon him, bringing with it the sense of being completely and totally happy. The warmth of his bed surrounded him, and he breathed deeply, feeling a smile playing across his lips. He dimly registered the sound of the swallow chirruping merrily from the eaves above them, whilst a light breath of warmth brushed against his cheek. His eyes slowly opened, to find Ginny slumbering beside him, her hair cascading all over his pillow and glinting in a shaft of early morning sunshine. His heart skipped a beat in a combination of pleasure and nervousness. How _could_ they have fallen asleep like this? The Burrow was thankfully still silent, but Harry knew that it wouldn't remain thus for long. Ron could wake up at any second and if anyone found them like this…

"Ginny," he whispered, shaking her gently. She mumbled something incoherently in her sleep and shuffled against him with a contented sigh. "Ginny," he repeated, more urgently, kissing her cheek. "Come on, wake up."

"Mmm?" she murmured sleepily, eye lids flickering open a little, making Harry's heart melt. Suddenly her eyes snapped fully open as she realised where she was. "Harry!" 

There was a brief moment of confusion, then realisation and she sat up rapidly. "What time is it?" she asked, anxiety clearly evident in her voice.

"No idea," Harry replied in an undertone. "But you've got to get out of here. I don't think we've got long."

At these very words there was a grunt from Ron, and the blankets on his bed shifted as he rolled over onto his back. They froze. An eternity later, his regular rhythmic breathing began again and Harry let out a long slow breath of his own.

"Watch the squeaking floorboard over by the wardrobe," he whispered, as she levered herself silently to her feet, and bent over to kiss him. "Thanks for the nightmare rescue."

"Any time," she grinned, squeezing his hand, before padding stealthily across the cluttered bedroom. Nervously Harry watched her picking her way through the obstacle course that was Ron's room, each noise amplified in the stillness. He'd never noticed that that other parts of the flooring creaked and groaned, each causing a lurch of the nerves currently surging in his stomach. She reached the wardrobe, and turned back to him, mouthing the words,

"Which one?" 

She gesticulated at the floorboards in front of her, and pulled a face at him. Despite the gravity of the situation, Harry had to fight back a laugh.

"On the left," he communicated silently with her. She nodded her understanding, and in a swirl of hair, reached out a tentative foot to continue. Harry held his breath.

"And just what do you think you're doing young lady?" came a shocked voice, seemingly out of nowhere. Harry almost jumped out of his skin and he heard Ginny give a surprised gasp. His heart was racing in his chest, as he looked around frantically for the speaker. What was going to happen to them now? Although nothing untoward had happened between them, if felt like he had betrayed the Weasley's trust, and that thought was not something Harry got any pleasure out of. Heart pounding, he glanced over at Ron, fearing the worst, but felt a surge of relief to see that his best friend was still sleeping.

"Nothing," Ginny hissed back at the mirror. "Honestly. I'm just going."

"And so you should," the mirror said sharply. "Really, the things going on these days. It was only yesterday that your brother and…"

"Shhh!" Ginny pleaded with the mirror. "I'll go now. You can watch me."

Carefully, she stepped across the squeaking floorboard and continued her cautious journey. Passing by Ron's trunk and then reaching the chest of drawers, Harry slowly began to grow more hopeful that she would make it. 

Suddenly there was a solid thump of a noise, and Ginny's face contorted in anguish. He could see her biting down on her lips to avoid making a sound, but the tears flooded into her eyes. She stood on one leg and rubbed her stubbed big toe gingerly, moving slightly up and down with the pain. A tiny whimper escaped her lips. It took all of Harry's self restraint not to leap out of bed and rush over to her. Hobbling slightly, she moved awkwardly towards the door, reaching her hand for the doorknob. Slowly she twisted it: a gentle click and the door swung towards her, creaking noisily. Ron groaned, shifted onto his side, muttering beneath his breath and shuffled back under the covers. Ginny looked at Harry with tremulous eyes, and was about to take her final steps when something completely shattered the silence of the room.

Pigwidgeon, flapped his wings noisily and began to hoot, as he enthusiastically bounced around inside his cage. 

"Will you shut up?" Ron yelled, half-sitting up to fling his pillow in the direction of the tiny owl. Ginny disappeared swiftly around the door in a flurry of hair, and swung it shut behind her.

"It's just Pig again," Harry said loudly, to cover up the noise of Ginny's departure. He was feeling rather as if he'd been playing the most gruelling Quidditch match of his career, and flopped back on his pillows in sheer relief. 

"Great," Ron said grumpily. "As long as I know who it is making this racket, that's all right then." Harry grinned to himself, and ran a thoughtful hand over the still-warm spot where Ginny had been, sincerely hoping that she'd make it back past Hermione without being detected. Pig continued to twitter, outraged by this treatment, and Ron finally growled in exasperation. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry replied, shifting onto his side so he could see Ron.

"You're nearer," Ron said emphatically.

Harry groaned, and sat up intent on sorting Pigwidgeon out, one way or another. These early morning wake-up calls were always a bit of a nuisance, and Harry, for one, was convinced that Pig had some cockerel genes in him somewhere.

"Not like that, you prat," Ron chuckled, sounding considerably more awake. "Make the most of your new-found talent as an adult wizard. Try a silencing charm or something. Means you don't have to get out of bed." 

Harry grinned. He'd forgotten it was his birthday, never having really celebrated it in any shape or fashion with the Dursleys, but this one was special. He could now use magic outside school. He grabbed his wand from beneath his bed and pointed it at the tiny owl.

_"Tacitum."_

Pig was instantly and effectively silenced, and it was only as he settled back in bed that it slowly dawned on Harry; he could have used the same charm to help Ginny escape.

*****

Breakfast was even more chaotic than usual in the cramped Weasley kitchen. It was Saturday, and if Harry had expected things to be calmer than a weekday, then he was very much mistaken.

"Molly, I've got to get into the office," Mr Weasley was saying frantically, fumbling as he buttoned his robes. "They need me to try and smooth over last night." He broke off as he saw Harry and Ron emerging from the shadowy hallway. "Happy birthday, Harry," he said smiling warmly at him, dark circles clearly visible beneath his eyes. "Sorry I can't stay, but I should be back later. I know there are some interesting plans afoot for this evening."

"What's happened now, Dad?" Ron asked curiously.

"Same old story," his father sighed, grabbing a book from the dresser. "Some of our defences are down, and they just can't resist showing off their power."

"Can we…?" Harry began, eager to at least do something.

"No," Mr Weasley responded slowly. "Thank you, Harry, but not just yet. Let's see how things go, shall we?"

"At least take some toast with you, Arthur," Mrs Weasley said, looking at him with concern. He smiled gratefully, and toast in hand he Disapparated to the Ministry with a small pop.

Before the kitchen had had a chance to draw breath, Fred and George crashed noisily into the room, laughing uncontrollably about something, and stopped immediately as they set eyes on Harry.

"It's the birthday boy," Fred said, grinning wickedly at George.

"Harry!" George exclaimed, sounding as delighted to see him as if Harry were a large sackful of Galleons. "We've got a little present for you."

"Here you go," Fred grinned, pushing a small gift-wrapped box across the table.

"I'd advise against touching that," came Ginny's sleepy voice, as she trudged into the kitchen in an old chequered dressing gown of Ron's and helped herself to toast and a mug of tea. "It'll only explode or something."

"Ginny!" George exclaimed, sounding rather hurt by the suggestion. "You know we only reserve such special treatment for our little sister."

"So you're going to turn him green, then?" she laughed.

"Not green…" Fred said with an air of mystery.

"OK, then," Harry chuckled unable to resist. He grinned quickly over at Ginny. "Let's see what it is." He unwrapped the box and slowly raised the lid. Sparkling fragments escaped, shooting into the air, and showering down on Harry like a form of fairy dust. Harry felt a strange tingling sensation in his limbs, and an irresistible urge to get to his feet. His chair suddenly crashed over backwards, bouncing slightly off the stone floor, and his feet began to perform a complicated tap dancing routine. Ron and Ginny burst out laughing, and after a second or two, Harry joined in.

"Dancing Dust," Fred chuckled, watching Harry's feet perform a complex triple time-step. "Hey, you're good at that Harry."

"Stop off at the shop later, and you can have a real present," George remarked.

"The shop?" Harry echoed, shuffling more slowly as the magic began to wear off.

"Well, we thought it'd be nice to go to Diagon Alley," Hermione remarked, leaning unobserved against the doorframe. She grinned and added, "Nice footwork, Harry."

The smell of bacon and eggs gradually faded from the cosy kitchen, and Harry enjoyed the chatter of the morning. Presents seemed to engulf him, and he was a little embarrassed by the fuss. Hermione had got him his own copy of _"Quirks with Quaffles,"_ and Ron had laughingly given him some Chudley Cannons socks, explaining that they were really to keep his sister's feet warm. Ginny, however, pulled him into the living room when Ron and Hermione were getting ready for their trip to Diagon Alley.

"I did this for you," she said quietly, passing him a circular flat package. "I read about the idea in a Muggle book of Dad's, and got Ron to do some magic on it for me. I thought it might help. "

He tore apart the bright purple wrapping quickly, and was intrigued to see something that looked like the finest silken spider's web stretched across a circular hoop, beads and feathers suspended from it.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, revolving the object in his hands.

"The original idea is a Muggle dream catcher," Ginny explained, smiling gently up at him. "You hang it over your bed to keep good thoughts near you when you're sleeping. The circle represents your life, and the hole in the centre there is to let the nightmares escape. I've added a bit of magic to it, though." 

"What does that do?" Harry asked hugging her closely. 

"Keeps me right beside you when you're sleeping," she said, blushing rather pink, and biting her lip. "See those strands of hair? That's right where the magic is."

"It's perfect," he said simply, noticing that the long wisps of hair were exactly the same shades of red as those running through her head. "Thanks Ginny."

"Well, I think it's going to save more embarrassing moments," she chuckled wickedly. "I can't believe we fell asleep last night."

"I can't believe we didn't get caught," he said fervently.

*****

The day in Diagon Alley was a very pleasant one; and they eventually settled down to eat ice cream in the sunshine outside Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. Despite being forcibly dragged away from Flourish and Blotts on more than one occasion, Hermione had still managed to acquire two new books: _"Dark Magic: A History," _and _"Advanced Astronomy."_

"Honestly, I don't know why you've got these," Ron sighed, picking up the weighty history tome. "They're not even on the booklist for next year."

"They look interesting," Hermione smiled at him, then her face quickly became more serious. "And with the way things are going, I thought the Dark Arts one might be useful. The more we know about that side of things the better."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Ron agreed reluctantly, flicking through the pages. He laughed suddenly. "Hey, you're in this one, Harry!"

"Let me see," Ginny said, scrambling onto the chair beside her brother and vying for the volume. They tussled briefly for a few seconds, and Ginny emerged victorious.

"Cheat!" Ron protested, still giggling from her tickles.

"Now where is it?" Ginny grinned, searching down the page with her finger. "Ah yes. _'Harry Potter, the sole known survivor of…'"_

"Put it away," Harry interrupted her, groaning loudly and burying his head in his hands. 

"Just thank your lucky stars they don't know about you, Ginny."

"I suppose so," she said, closing the book a little unwillingly and passing it back to Hermione. "Good teasing material, though."

"We'd better get going," Hermione said, checking her watch. "It's after five and your mum will be worrying."

There was a murmur of reluctant agreement, and gathering together their assorted parcels and packages, they headed through to the fireplace in the joke shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was faring very well as a business, and the formally painted exterior of the shop was rather deceptive. Upon setting foot within, you never quite knew what was going to happen next. Quills disintegrated in your hands before you could use them, little piles of knuts turned you purple when you picked them up, and explosions regularly shook the little shop violently. Crowds of small excited children were perpetually thronging in the shop, or grouping round the window, laughing at the effects of Canary Creams and other such inventions. Sickles and Galleons changed hands rapidly.

Straightening up in The Burrow's hearth after a particularly unpleasant Floo Powder journey, Harry was stunned to see a distinctive figure with a long white beard sitting at the kitchen table speaking seriously to Mr and Mrs Weasley. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, regarded the four of them with affection and nodded.

"Birthday greetings are in order, I believe, Harry," he said, his bright blue eyes twinkling the way they always did.

"P-Professor," Harry stammered.

"Why are you here?" Ron asked curiously, then blushed bright red. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean that to sound quite like that."

"Things have a habit of just coming out, I find," Dumbledore said, smiling at Ron. "I remember one of my students… Dear me, this seems like such a long time ago… but I digress. Harry," he said calmly. "I need to speak with you about something, and Ginny, this undoubtedly concerns you too."


	4. Revelations and Reactions

_Thanks for the reviews last chapter – same principle applies here; review and you can have the next chapter in the morning. (giggles) I've been quite prolific whilst has been down! As ever, little of this belongs to me – the characters and scenery are JKR's._ _ Enjoy!_To Weather the Storm

"_Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;_

_Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud."_

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "Enid's Song"

"Ginny?" he yelled into the darkness of the night. "Ginny?" His cry was smothered, obscured by a low rumble of thunder, creeping ever closer to the Burrow. Even before his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness around him, he was pelting across the garden at full speed, rain spattering against his face and waking him to the chilling reality of the situation. He ducked quickly to avoid a low branch of the beech tree that suddenly loomed into view and turned sharply to the right, stumbling over a patch of uneven ground to reach the fence.

Clambering over into the meadow, he clutched the sweater in his hand more tightly. Ginny would need it when he found her, the light summer frock she was wearing would be little protection against rain like this. He shook off the droplets that were congregating on his own nose and tore his way through the tangling grasses in the meadow. He could barely believe that it was only yesterday that he had come this way with her, hand in hand and laughing uproariously about being thrown in the river. This bombshell tonight had changed everything. It had shattered their world.

A fluttering of light coloured cotton appeared in the moonlight, not too far ahead, near the blackened silhouette of the gnarled oak tree on the ridge.

"Ginny!" he shouted with every bit of breath he had left. He was gaining on her. Heart hammering against his ribs and lungs aching with effort, he raced on, desperate to catch her. She paused and turned, and he could just make out the paleness her face through the driving rain.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed at him, sounding almost on the verge of tears. She swung round again and ran on. Harry reached forwards, and his skill as one of the best Seekers Hogwarts had ever known came into play, as he securely caught her hand within his.

"Ginny, please," he begged, hauling her to a standstill before the steep drop down to the river.

"Let me go!" she growled at him, emphasizing each and every syllable, whilst her eyes glittered furiously at him through the darkness. Harry's breath tore out of him in little ragged bursts as he stared at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. Ginny's temper was legendary within the Weasley family for its savagery, and although Harry had witnessed it on a couple of occasions, it had never yet been directed at him.

"No," he said firmly, looking straight at her. Whatever she might think of him now there was absolutely no way he was going to let her run off into the night when Death Eaters might be around. He'd carry her kicking and screaming back to The Burrow if he had to, and looking at her expression of rage, Harry suddenly realised that this was a real possibility.

"Harry, I mean it," she shouted, wriggling her hand to escape his grasp. The rain was relentless, soaking them both. Ginny's bare arms shone in the moonlight as the water trickled down them.

"Ginny, I'll let go if you stay," Harry said, offering her the sweater with his free hand.

"Give me one good reason why I should," she snapped, snatching the jumper out of his hand and flinging it aside. "One reason why I should stay, Harry? Just one."

"I'll give you two reasons," he said quietly, stooping to retrieve the item. "The first one is there might be Death Eaters around, and I don't want you to go through that again. The other reason is that, whatever you might think of me, I really do love you."

In the silence that followed, he pulled her gently underneath the heavy canopy of the oak tree, where it was still slightly sheltered from the rain. Fire still blazed from her eyes, and he reluctantly released her.

"Oh thank you so much," she retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm as she rubbed some life back into her wrist. "I do so enjoy being treated as a possession, to be thrown around as you see fit."

"Gin, there is absolutely no way…" he began, desperately trying to placate her. He reached out to try and soothe her, but she jerked away from him.

"Don't," she spat at him. He watched the emotions tempestuously crossing her brown eyes, wishing with all his might that he knew what to do, or what to say to her. "I suppose _you_ think he's right."

"I don't know what to think anymore," Harry exclaimed, sinking down onto a nearby tree root and running his hands through his damp hair. "I just want this to stop. I want things to go back to being like they were a few hours ago, Ginny. I can't bear this…" He felt the vaguely familiar constricting sensation of a lump forming in his throat and stared out over the darkness of the valley, a series of cold droplets shivering from the tree down his neck. The lights of Ottery St. Catchpole twinkled warmly through the gloom, far out along the riverbank, but up on the ridge it was cold and exposed, with nowhere to turn for comfort.

"A baby, Harry," her voice rose with passion once more. "You heard him. He seriously expects us to do _that_. After everything we've been through, he still wants more. It can't be the only way. It just can't be." There was a slight quaver of desperation in her voice, which made Harry glance back up at her. She looked so much younger than her sixteen years and seemed suddenly so vulnerable. "Why can't we have a normal life like everyone else? Why has Voldemort got to spoil every last thing we do? Why Harry? Why?"

To his amazement, she burst into uncharacteristic floods of tears and collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Ginny," he exclaimed, gathering her tightly to him. "Shhh! It's OK." He rocked her gently, trying to stem the tide of emotions that threatened to engulf them both. Each shuddering cry tore at his heart, encompassing him with a sense of guilt. He smoothed her wet hair away from her face, and talked softly of a loving nothingness to her, waiting for the storm to subside.

At last the tears ceased, and her cries became little hiccupping sobs. She stretched her arms up around his neck, and nuzzled her head in there.

"Sorry," she choked, shaking still in his embrace.

"Gin, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he asserted quickly. "You didn't ask for any of this to happen."

"I shouldn't have lost my temper with you like that," she gulped, struggling to control her feelings. "It's hardly your fault. I knew from the start what being in your life would be like, and… and…"

"Neither of us could have predicted what Dumbledore's just asked," Harry said grimly. "Ginny, look at me." She shook her head and burrowed further into the security of his body. "Please," he said, gently lifting her gaze to his. Her face was swollen and stained by the tears that had flowed torrentially over its contours, the darkness of her eyes awash with a multitude of naked emotions in the paleness of the light. "Ginny," he whispered. "I promise you, no one is going to force us into anything. Not now, not ever." A weak ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, and impulsively he hugged her tightly. "We'll be all right."

"Will we?" her voice wobbled uncertainly with the question.

"I hope so," he heaved a heavy sigh. "As long as I don't lose you, I can stand up to pretty much everything Voldemort wants to throw at me."

"We'll face him together, the same as we always have," she said, blinking back the tears that shone in the moonlight.

Silence fell between them. The rain had steadied to a lighter drizzle, but they were both so wet it barely mattered. They clung together, desperately seeking refuge from the real world. Ginny shivered suddenly.

"You're cold," he said, anxiously.

"I'm fine," she said, rather unconvincingly. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't think I could face… I can't go back up there. Not yet."

"I know," Harry said, understanding completely what they would walk in to back at The Burrow. "But they're going to be worried about us out here, and if we're much longer, I think there'll be a rescue party heading after us."

"A few more minutes?" she pleaded. "Just to… you know."

Harry stretched out an arm for the sodden discarded sweater and pointed his wand at it.

"I've never tried this before," he smiled at her. "Knowing my luck, I'll end up setting it on fire, rather than drying it out. Another excuse for one of your brothers to kill me." She gave a wobbly giggle, and watched him cast the spell. "Put it on," he urged her. She nodded, and wriggled into the giant sweater.

"Percy's," she said regarding the clothing with the air of a wine connoisseur, before pulling her damp hair through the neck. Harry chuckled at the sight. The sweater fell almost to her knees, covering all but the very hem of her dress, and the sleeves hung miles below her hands. "You've done a good job," she smiled, wrinkling her nose at him. "Nice and warm, and only smells slightly singed."

"Hey!" he objected, grabbing hold of her, and pulling her onto his lap. "Say that again." His hands poised themselves to tickle her, but she shook her head.

"Hold me," she whispered, the hurt still evident in the darkness of her eyes. Harry needed no second bidding.

The moon shone down, its brightness echoed on the river, reflection distorted by the mist of rain that still tumbled down on the scene. He heard Ginny catch her breath, and she pointed out over the valley. What seemed to be a small white version of a rainbow reached up above the water, arching through the night sky with a fragile beauty. Harry looked at it in amazement; the monochrome bow shone gently, reminding him of the colour and purity of a unicorn.

"A moonlight rainbow," she whispered, getting to her feet without tearing her eyes from the scene. "I've only ever seen this once before."

"It's incredible," he agreed, moving towards her. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" she turned around to face him, the moonlight magically shimmering behind her.

"I'm sorry for all this," he said, still feeling unbearably guilty.

"I know," she said softly, reaching up to kiss him. "No matter what your background's going to throw at us next, I'll always love you, Harry."

They slipped through the kitchen door into the warmth of The Burrow. The candles flickered brightly in the sudden draft from the door, and the kettle was whistling to the boil on the stove. Harry wrapped his arm protectively around Ginny, causing her to look up at him and smile.

"We're back," he said nervously. There was a sudden shriek of relief, as Mrs Weasley laid eyes on them and would have rushed across the kitchen to hug them, had it not been for Mr Weasley's restraining hand on her arm.

"Give them a chance, Molly," he said gently. "They've had even more of a shock with this than we have."

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked, as his eyes scanned the kitchen. He felt Ginny tense under his arm.

"Gone back to Hogwarts," Mrs Weasley said, with a disparaging sniff. "He said if you needed to ask him anything, you should go through, but otherwise he'd talk to you on the first day of term. Honestly, I've always had the utmost respect for that man, but he's really gone too far this time. I don't know what he was thinking of…"

"Molly," Mr Weasley said warningly. Cups of tea were magically whisked across the kitchen, and landed heavily on the scrubbed wooden table, splashing the hot liquid everywhere in her anger.

"No, I won't be shushed," she said furiously. "The whole idea is completely ridiculous, and there's no reason to put either of them through something like this."

"Go and get out of those wet clothes," Mr Weasley said kindly to Harry and Ginny, who were still hovering beside the door. "We'll talk more later."

"Dad," Ginny said, choking back the tears again. "I just want to go to bed. I can't take any more of this tonight."

"We can talk tomorrow, can't we?" Harry asked, feeling a similar desperation for time alone to think things through. Then an unpleasant thought struck him. "Do the others know about this yet?"

"No," Mr Weasley said, shooting a quick glance at his wife. "They know something is wrong, but we haven't told them why Dumbledore was here. Obviously we will need to include them at some point, but not right now; it's not going to help the situation if more people get upset tonight."

"Thanks Dad," a flicker of a smile crossed Ginny's face, as she crossed the room to hug him.

"Oh Ginny," he sighed, hugging her tightly. He picked up her left hand and carefully examined the silvery scar zigzagging across the inside of her wrist with a very serious expression. "I wish I had a simple answer for you that would put everything right," he said heavily. "I remember when you were born, Gin, feeling the real wonder of finally having a little girl after all of your brothers, and I promised you, there and then, that I'd look after you. Sometimes it feels like I don't do a very good job at keeping that promise."

"You do, Dad," she protested. "It's like the diary. You always told me never to trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brains, and it was me who didn't listen to you." A glimmer of her impish grin appeared on her face as she added, "But I suppose you never told me that I shouldn't fall in love with Harry, so maybe I can blame you for this."

"Nice try," her father chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I know better than to get involved between you and Harry. Now have something warm to drink and get yourself off to bed."

"Hot milk," Mrs Weasley said briskly, and Ginny pulled a face of disgust. "It'll help you sleep, otherwise you'll be awake worrying all night. You too," she added sternly, looking at Harry, who didn't dare argue for once.

Steaming mugs of milk in hand, they left the kitchen, and pulled the door shut behind them. Ginny raised a finger to her lips, and moved to a dark corner of the hallway, where a green leafy plant with drooping leaves resided on top of a wooden trestle. The plant looked slightly the worse for wear, and Harry soon realised why. Ginny's hot milk was swiftly administered to the ailing shrub, and the foliage seemed to wilt a bit more before his very eyes.

"Don't worry," she grinned. "It's either the plant or me that has to suffer, and I reckon it's in a better state than I am right now. It's been getting hot milk for years and I haven't killed it yet."

Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply, when the raised voices of Mr and Mrs Weasley drifted through the door, pinning them to the spot.

"We can't hide from the truth of this Molly, however hard it's going to be on those two. Dumbledore's right; the whole world as we know it could come crashing down at any second, and things are definitely getting worse with every day that goes by."

"They're far too young," Mrs Weasley replied firmly. "Even supposing Dumbledore has a point about Harry's background, Ginny's still only sixteen. Another year or two, and maybe then it wouldn't be so bad."

"She'll be seventeen in a couple of months," Mr Weasley said in a flat tone. "An adult wizard, more than capable of making her own decisions, as if she'd ever let us forget it. I hate to say this, but I don't think we've got long left, and unless they act on Dumbledore's suggestion quickly, it's going to be too late. Yes, I agree, they're young, and this is nowhere near the way I always pictured things working out for her, but don't forget, we were still teenagers when we had Bill, and he turned out all right."

"Yes, but we'd finished school," Mrs Weasley retaliated angrily. "I can't believe you're taking this so calmly Arthur. Anyone would think you _wanted_ them to go ahead with this."

"Look at them," he said gently. "Molly, you've seen the two of them together, and how devoted they are to each other. Ginny did that charm for Harry, and he's almost died trying to protect her. If anyone can cope with something like this, it's those two."

Mrs Weasley's voice softened as she said, "Oh Arthur, I don't know. She's still our baby, and I don't want her getting dragged into this battle with You Know Who."

"She's involved already, Molly," Mr Weasley replied, so quietly that they could barely hear him. "I don't like it any more than you do, but she's never going to give Harry up, and I'm not sure I'd want her to."

"No," Mrs Weasley agreed. "They've been through so much, one way and another. But, really, how _are_ they going to manage with a baby?"

"Molly Weasley," her husband remarked, with a trace of humour in his voice. "Are you seriously telling me that you can resist the lure of our first grandchild? I have visions of you Apparating the length of the country on a daily basis if they go ahead with this."

"I suppose I would, at that," she laughed, rather unexpectedly. "Anyway, it's not a foregone conclusion: they might decide not to."

"True enough," Mr Weasley replied. "And Harry might well come out of this battle unscathed. I hope so, for all our sakes."

Harry had heard enough, and tugged at Ginny's hand to encourage her to follow him up the stairs. They paused beside her bedroom door.

"Will you be OK?" he whispered, holding her tightly in his arms.

"I'll try," she said honestly. "If I'm not, I'll sneak up to see you." She chuckled rather dryly. "I suppose one advantage of this is that if they catch me up there, they can't really say anything, not after what Dumbledore's asked us to do."


	5. To Weather the Storm

_Thanks for the reviews last chapter – same principle applies here; review and you can have the next chapter in the morning. (giggles) I've been quite prolific whilst has been down! As ever, little of this belongs to me – the characters and scenery are JKR's._ _ Enjoy!_To Weather the Storm

"_Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud;_

_Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud."_

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "Enid's Song"

"Ginny?" he yelled into the darkness of the night. "Ginny?" His cry was smothered, obscured by a low rumble of thunder, creeping ever closer to the Burrow. Even before his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness around him, he was pelting across the garden at full speed, rain spattering against his face and waking him to the chilling reality of the situation. He ducked quickly to avoid a low branch of the beech tree that suddenly loomed into view and turned sharply to the right, stumbling over a patch of uneven ground to reach the fence.

Clambering over into the meadow, he clutched the sweater in his hand more tightly. Ginny would need it when he found her, the light summer frock she was wearing would be little protection against rain like this. He shook off the droplets that were congregating on his own nose and tore his way through the tangling grasses in the meadow. He could barely believe that it was only yesterday that he had come this way with her, hand in hand and laughing uproariously about being thrown in the river. This bombshell tonight had changed everything. It had shattered their world.

A fluttering of light coloured cotton appeared in the moonlight, not too far ahead, near the blackened silhouette of the gnarled oak tree on the ridge.

"Ginny!" he shouted with every bit of breath he had left. He was gaining on her. Heart hammering against his ribs and lungs aching with effort, he raced on, desperate to catch her. She paused and turned, and he could just make out the paleness her face through the driving rain.

"Leave me alone!" she screamed at him, sounding almost on the verge of tears. She swung round again and ran on. Harry reached forwards, and his skill as one of the best Seekers Hogwarts had ever known came into play, as he securely caught her hand within his.

"Ginny, please," he begged, hauling her to a standstill before the steep drop down to the river.

"Let me go!" she growled at him, emphasizing each and every syllable, whilst her eyes glittered furiously at him through the darkness. Harry's breath tore out of him in little ragged bursts as he stared at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. Ginny's temper was legendary within the Weasley family for its savagery, and although Harry had witnessed it on a couple of occasions, it had never yet been directed at him.

"No," he said firmly, looking straight at her. Whatever she might think of him now there was absolutely no way he was going to let her run off into the night when Death Eaters might be around. He'd carry her kicking and screaming back to The Burrow if he had to, and looking at her expression of rage, Harry suddenly realised that this was a real possibility.

"Harry, I mean it," she shouted, wriggling her hand to escape his grasp. The rain was relentless, soaking them both. Ginny's bare arms shone in the moonlight as the water trickled down them.

"Ginny, I'll let go if you stay," Harry said, offering her the sweater with his free hand.

"Give me one good reason why I should," she snapped, snatching the jumper out of his hand and flinging it aside. "One reason why I should stay, Harry? Just one."

"I'll give you two reasons," he said quietly, stooping to retrieve the item. "The first one is there might be Death Eaters around, and I don't want you to go through that again. The other reason is that, whatever you might think of me, I really do love you."

In the silence that followed, he pulled her gently underneath the heavy canopy of the oak tree, where it was still slightly sheltered from the rain. Fire still blazed from her eyes, and he reluctantly released her.

"Oh thank you so much," she retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm as she rubbed some life back into her wrist. "I do so enjoy being treated as a possession, to be thrown around as you see fit."

"Gin, there is absolutely no way…" he began, desperately trying to placate her. He reached out to try and soothe her, but she jerked away from him.

"Don't," she spat at him. He watched the emotions tempestuously crossing her brown eyes, wishing with all his might that he knew what to do, or what to say to her. "I suppose _you_ think he's right."

"I don't know what to think anymore," Harry exclaimed, sinking down onto a nearby tree root and running his hands through his damp hair. "I just want this to stop. I want things to go back to being like they were a few hours ago, Ginny. I can't bear this…" He felt the vaguely familiar constricting sensation of a lump forming in his throat and stared out over the darkness of the valley, a series of cold droplets shivering from the tree down his neck. The lights of Ottery St. Catchpole twinkled warmly through the gloom, far out along the riverbank, but up on the ridge it was cold and exposed, with nowhere to turn for comfort.

"A baby, Harry," her voice rose with passion once more. "You heard him. He seriously expects us to do _that_. After everything we've been through, he still wants more. It can't be the only way. It just can't be." There was a slight quaver of desperation in her voice, which made Harry glance back up at her. She looked so much younger than her sixteen years and seemed suddenly so vulnerable. "Why can't we have a normal life like everyone else? Why has Voldemort got to spoil every last thing we do? Why Harry? Why?"

To his amazement, she burst into uncharacteristic floods of tears and collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Ginny," he exclaimed, gathering her tightly to him. "Shhh! It's OK." He rocked her gently, trying to stem the tide of emotions that threatened to engulf them both. Each shuddering cry tore at his heart, encompassing him with a sense of guilt. He smoothed her wet hair away from her face, and talked softly of a loving nothingness to her, waiting for the storm to subside.

At last the tears ceased, and her cries became little hiccupping sobs. She stretched her arms up around his neck, and nuzzled her head in there.

"Sorry," she choked, shaking still in his embrace.

"Gin, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he asserted quickly. "You didn't ask for any of this to happen."

"I shouldn't have lost my temper with you like that," she gulped, struggling to control her feelings. "It's hardly your fault. I knew from the start what being in your life would be like, and… and…"

"Neither of us could have predicted what Dumbledore's just asked," Harry said grimly. "Ginny, look at me." She shook her head and burrowed further into the security of his body. "Please," he said, gently lifting her gaze to his. Her face was swollen and stained by the tears that had flowed torrentially over its contours, the darkness of her eyes awash with a multitude of naked emotions in the paleness of the light. "Ginny," he whispered. "I promise you, no one is going to force us into anything. Not now, not ever." A weak ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, and impulsively he hugged her tightly. "We'll be all right."

"Will we?" her voice wobbled uncertainly with the question.

"I hope so," he heaved a heavy sigh. "As long as I don't lose you, I can stand up to pretty much everything Voldemort wants to throw at me."

"We'll face him together, the same as we always have," she said, blinking back the tears that shone in the moonlight.

Silence fell between them. The rain had steadied to a lighter drizzle, but they were both so wet it barely mattered. They clung together, desperately seeking refuge from the real world. Ginny shivered suddenly.

"You're cold," he said, anxiously.

"I'm fine," she said, rather unconvincingly. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't think I could face… I can't go back up there. Not yet."

"I know," Harry said, understanding completely what they would walk in to back at The Burrow. "But they're going to be worried about us out here, and if we're much longer, I think there'll be a rescue party heading after us."

"A few more minutes?" she pleaded. "Just to… you know."

Harry stretched out an arm for the sodden discarded sweater and pointed his wand at it.

"I've never tried this before," he smiled at her. "Knowing my luck, I'll end up setting it on fire, rather than drying it out. Another excuse for one of your brothers to kill me." She gave a wobbly giggle, and watched him cast the spell. "Put it on," he urged her. She nodded, and wriggled into the giant sweater.

"Percy's," she said regarding the clothing with the air of a wine connoisseur, before pulling her damp hair through the neck. Harry chuckled at the sight. The sweater fell almost to her knees, covering all but the very hem of her dress, and the sleeves hung miles below her hands. "You've done a good job," she smiled, wrinkling her nose at him. "Nice and warm, and only smells slightly singed."

"Hey!" he objected, grabbing hold of her, and pulling her onto his lap. "Say that again." His hands poised themselves to tickle her, but she shook her head.

"Hold me," she whispered, the hurt still evident in the darkness of her eyes. Harry needed no second bidding.

The moon shone down, its brightness echoed on the river, reflection distorted by the mist of rain that still tumbled down on the scene. He heard Ginny catch her breath, and she pointed out over the valley. What seemed to be a small white version of a rainbow reached up above the water, arching through the night sky with a fragile beauty. Harry looked at it in amazement; the monochrome bow shone gently, reminding him of the colour and purity of a unicorn.

"A moonlight rainbow," she whispered, getting to her feet without tearing her eyes from the scene. "I've only ever seen this once before."

"It's incredible," he agreed, moving towards her. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" she turned around to face him, the moonlight magically shimmering behind her.

"I'm sorry for all this," he said, still feeling unbearably guilty.

"I know," she said softly, reaching up to kiss him. "No matter what your background's going to throw at us next, I'll always love you, Harry."

They slipped through the kitchen door into the warmth of The Burrow. The candles flickered brightly in the sudden draft from the door, and the kettle was whistling to the boil on the stove. Harry wrapped his arm protectively around Ginny, causing her to look up at him and smile.

"We're back," he said nervously. There was a sudden shriek of relief, as Mrs Weasley laid eyes on them and would have rushed across the kitchen to hug them, had it not been for Mr Weasley's restraining hand on her arm.

"Give them a chance, Molly," he said gently. "They've had even more of a shock with this than we have."

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked, as his eyes scanned the kitchen. He felt Ginny tense under his arm.

"Gone back to Hogwarts," Mrs Weasley said, with a disparaging sniff. "He said if you needed to ask him anything, you should go through, but otherwise he'd talk to you on the first day of term. Honestly, I've always had the utmost respect for that man, but he's really gone too far this time. I don't know what he was thinking of…"

"Molly," Mr Weasley said warningly. Cups of tea were magically whisked across the kitchen, and landed heavily on the scrubbed wooden table, splashing the hot liquid everywhere in her anger.

"No, I won't be shushed," she said furiously. "The whole idea is completely ridiculous, and there's no reason to put either of them through something like this."

"Go and get out of those wet clothes," Mr Weasley said kindly to Harry and Ginny, who were still hovering beside the door. "We'll talk more later."

"Dad," Ginny said, choking back the tears again. "I just want to go to bed. I can't take any more of this tonight."

"We can talk tomorrow, can't we?" Harry asked, feeling a similar desperation for time alone to think things through. Then an unpleasant thought struck him. "Do the others know about this yet?"

"No," Mr Weasley said, shooting a quick glance at his wife. "They know something is wrong, but we haven't told them why Dumbledore was here. Obviously we will need to include them at some point, but not right now; it's not going to help the situation if more people get upset tonight."

"Thanks Dad," a flicker of a smile crossed Ginny's face, as she crossed the room to hug him.

"Oh Ginny," he sighed, hugging her tightly. He picked up her left hand and carefully examined the silvery scar zigzagging across the inside of her wrist with a very serious expression. "I wish I had a simple answer for you that would put everything right," he said heavily. "I remember when you were born, Gin, feeling the real wonder of finally having a little girl after all of your brothers, and I promised you, there and then, that I'd look after you. Sometimes it feels like I don't do a very good job at keeping that promise."

"You do, Dad," she protested. "It's like the diary. You always told me never to trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brains, and it was me who didn't listen to you." A glimmer of her impish grin appeared on her face as she added, "But I suppose you never told me that I shouldn't fall in love with Harry, so maybe I can blame you for this."

"Nice try," her father chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I know better than to get involved between you and Harry. Now have something warm to drink and get yourself off to bed."

"Hot milk," Mrs Weasley said briskly, and Ginny pulled a face of disgust. "It'll help you sleep, otherwise you'll be awake worrying all night. You too," she added sternly, looking at Harry, who didn't dare argue for once.

Steaming mugs of milk in hand, they left the kitchen, and pulled the door shut behind them. Ginny raised a finger to her lips, and moved to a dark corner of the hallway, where a green leafy plant with drooping leaves resided on top of a wooden trestle. The plant looked slightly the worse for wear, and Harry soon realised why. Ginny's hot milk was swiftly administered to the ailing shrub, and the foliage seemed to wilt a bit more before his very eyes.

"Don't worry," she grinned. "It's either the plant or me that has to suffer, and I reckon it's in a better state than I am right now. It's been getting hot milk for years and I haven't killed it yet."

Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply, when the raised voices of Mr and Mrs Weasley drifted through the door, pinning them to the spot.

"We can't hide from the truth of this Molly, however hard it's going to be on those two. Dumbledore's right; the whole world as we know it could come crashing down at any second, and things are definitely getting worse with every day that goes by."

"They're far too young," Mrs Weasley replied firmly. "Even supposing Dumbledore has a point about Harry's background, Ginny's still only sixteen. Another year or two, and maybe then it wouldn't be so bad."

"She'll be seventeen in a couple of months," Mr Weasley said in a flat tone. "An adult wizard, more than capable of making her own decisions, as if she'd ever let us forget it. I hate to say this, but I don't think we've got long left, and unless they act on Dumbledore's suggestion quickly, it's going to be too late. Yes, I agree, they're young, and this is nowhere near the way I always pictured things working out for her, but don't forget, we were still teenagers when we had Bill, and he turned out all right."

"Yes, but we'd finished school," Mrs Weasley retaliated angrily. "I can't believe you're taking this so calmly Arthur. Anyone would think you _wanted_ them to go ahead with this."

"Look at them," he said gently. "Molly, you've seen the two of them together, and how devoted they are to each other. Ginny did that charm for Harry, and he's almost died trying to protect her. If anyone can cope with something like this, it's those two."

Mrs Weasley's voice softened as she said, "Oh Arthur, I don't know. She's still our baby, and I don't want her getting dragged into this battle with You Know Who."

"She's involved already, Molly," Mr Weasley replied, so quietly that they could barely hear him. "I don't like it any more than you do, but she's never going to give Harry up, and I'm not sure I'd want her to."

"No," Mrs Weasley agreed. "They've been through so much, one way and another. But, really, how _are_ they going to manage with a baby?"

"Molly Weasley," her husband remarked, with a trace of humour in his voice. "Are you seriously telling me that you can resist the lure of our first grandchild? I have visions of you Apparating the length of the country on a daily basis if they go ahead with this."

"I suppose I would, at that," she laughed, rather unexpectedly. "Anyway, it's not a foregone conclusion: they might decide not to."

"True enough," Mr Weasley replied. "And Harry might well come out of this battle unscathed. I hope so, for all our sakes."

Harry had heard enough, and tugged at Ginny's hand to encourage her to follow him up the stairs. They paused beside her bedroom door.

"Will you be OK?" he whispered, holding her tightly in his arms.

"I'll try," she said honestly. "If I'm not, I'll sneak up to see you." She chuckled rather dryly. "I suppose one advantage of this is that if they catch me up there, they can't really say anything, not after what Dumbledore's asked us to do."


	6. The Calm After the Storm

_JKR's creations. I am merely playing. Please keep reviewing, and I'll get the next one up in a day or two!_ The Calm After The Storm

"_Love in her sunny eyes doth basking play;_

_Love walks the pleasant mazes of her hair;_

_Love does on both her lips forever stray,_

_And sows and reaps a thousand kisses there."_

_**Abraham Cowley: "The Change."**_

Bright morning light penetrated the luminous orange of Ron's bedroom making Harry groan and bury his head back under the covers. There hadn't been much sleep last night, mainly because his mind had been far too active in ranging over the various possibilities and consequences of what had been suggested. He had turned this way and that, wondering about what could happen to them, and unable to settle to sleep at all. After much grumbling, Ron had finally threatened to hex him if he didn't keep still, and so Harry had remained flat on his back for quite some time, analysing a crack which ran across the ceiling, and forked into two by the window. It was quite a relief at one o' clock in the morning to feel a pair of cold feet wriggling into bed beside him. Ginny hadn't been able to sleep either, and Harry couldn't ever remember having been so grateful to see her.

They hadn't talked much, just a few hushed whispers, but there was real comfort derived from simply being together, watching through the night and waiting for the morning to come. It felt so right to be there with her like that, Harry had reflected, as he kissed the top of her head, and felt her shuffle contentedly against him. However, it couldn't last. She had disappeared back to her own room at the first glow of dawn, leaving him to brood alone, finally falling into very restless dreams.

Gradually opening his eyes again, Harry winced at the light he encountered, and felt rather as if he'd fought ten rounds with a mountain troll. Every bone in his body ached with exhaustion, but he reached for his glasses and glanced at his watch, grateful for the unusual silence in The Burrow. He sat bolt upright with a seamless movement, and before he realised what he was doing, he was out of bed. How could he have overslept so badly? Why hadn't Ron woken him? He hurriedly flung on some clothes, and dashed down the stairs.

Pausing briefly in the darkness of the hallway beyond the kitchen, he wondered what he would find when he stepped over the threshold. He had never intended Ginny to face the rest of her family on her own, and the sight of the jaundiced long-suffering plant on the trestle did nothing to soothe his nerves. A leaf tumbled from the frail stem and drifted down to the floor, eddying slightly in the breeze from the landing window. He took a deep breath to steady his churning stomach, and opened the kitchen door.

"At last!" Hermione's cheerful voice accosted him at once. "We thought you were going to sleep all day. Ginny's even worse; she's still not out of bed. What have the two of you been up to?"

"Ginny's sleeping?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Well, unless she's pretending so she can sneak out and steal our socks," Ron laughed. "I don't see her anywhere around here, do you?" And he proceeded to carry out an elaborate pantomime of investigating increasingly ridiculous places, searching for his sister. "Not under here either," he remarked, replacing the lid on the butter dish. Harry gave a hollow laugh, and moved to look out of the window across the rambling garden.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked gently, a frown furrowing her brow.

"I'll bet he's had a row with Ginny," Ron chuckled. "What have you done to her now, Harry?"

"No, it can't be that," Hermione said quickly. "Everything was fine until… until we got back here from Diagon Alley. Harry!" she exclaimed suddenly, "What did Dumbledore want?"

"To talk to me about Voldemort," Harry explained carefully, watching Ron flinch at the name.

"What about him?" Hermione prompted urgently. "Do you know more about what's going on?"

"Sort of," Harry replied, feeling very awkward. "Hermione, can we talk about something else please?"

"What's all this got to do with Ginny?" Ron asked curiously. "Dumbledore said it involved her too. Come on, Harry. You can tell _us_."

"Not yet," Harry said, sounding a lot more certain than he felt.

"What?" Ron burst out incredulously. "Why not?"

"Just leave it, Ron!" Harry found himself yelling, and turned to leave the room, almost colliding with Mrs Weasley in the doorway. He glanced down, rather sheepishly at her, and was relieved to see her smile.

"Ah, there you are, Harry dear," she said. "Just the person. Can you take some breakfast up to Ginny for me, please? I dare say you'll be wanting some too." She turned to Ron and Hermione and added, "And as for you two, I have some errands that need running. Now where did I put that list?"

Harry hurried back up the stairs to the landing outside Ginny's room. He wrestled with the tray, slopping hot tea everywhere, and eventually gave up and put it on the floor so that he could knock on her door.

"Come in, Harry," her voice laughed from within, and he twisted the doorknob and stuck his head round.

He'd only ever been in Ginny's room on two previous occasions, and a greater contrast to Ron's was difficult to imagine. This room, by virtue of being a floor lower, didn't have a sloping ceiling that you cracked your head off at periodic intervals, and although it faced the drive at the front of The Burrow, rather than the southerly garden, plenty of light still streamed in through the two partially opened sash windows. There was something very feminine about the place, the scent of flowers, or perhaps the pastel walls or fabric; Harry wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was distinctively Ginny. She swung round from the mirror to face him.

"I come in peace," he said gravely, offering her his new Chudley Cannons socks and making her giggle. He paused for a second, still worried about her, but then grinned."OK, it's time to confess; how did you know it was me? I can't believe my footsteps are so distinctive."

"Well, I'd probably have guessed it was you from the way you came up the stairs," she smiled, eyes twinkling up at him. "But the thing that really gave it away was when you knocked on the door. All my brothers have a tendency to just barge in."

"I guess that would be a dead giveaway," he chuckled, bringing the tray in from the

landing, putting it down on her desk and then collapsing on her bed. "Maybe I'll have to start doing that as well."

"You dare," she chuckled, pulling a brush energetically through her long hair, tugging impatiently at the knotted bits, and sending the spectrum of reds whirling around her, bouncing in the light.

"Are you all right?" he asked her tentatively, as she turned towards him again. She regarded him seriously for a moment, and smiled.

"Yes, I think I am," she said, sounding slightly surprised with herself. She flopped backwards on the bed beside him, her hair swirling across the lilac bedspread like a flame. Harry propped himself up on his elbow to look at her.

"You never cease to amaze me, Ginny Weasley," he said, leaning over to kiss her. "How do you do it?"

"You're too easily surprised?" she teased, and squirmed away from his tickling hands.

"OK, OK," she giggled, holding out her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I just got to thinking, that's all."

"Must have been a strain," Harry laughed. "Don't overdo it, Gin."

"No, seriously, Harry," she said, her soft brown eyes looking deeply into his own. "I don't actually think things are as bad as all that."

"What?" Harry said incredulously. "Out there with Voldemort, you mean? It sounds pretty desperate to me."

"I know that's bad," she admitted, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. "I meant about the baby. We do actually have a choice, which is better than I thought last night."

"I still have no idea what to make about all this," Harry confessed, pulling a face at her.

"I'm terrified about both options, to tell you the truth." He lifted a strand of her hair and wound the coppery shades thoughtfully around his finger. "Just the thought of anything happening to you…"

"Or you," she responded gently, reaching her hand to his cheek. He saw a flicker of the emotion from the storm cross her features as she added, "He's coming for you, isn't he?"

"Yes," Harry replied, feeling his insides twisting into knots as he watched the pain in her eyes. "It doesn't sound like we've got long to wait either."

"Everything's changing," she said, biting her lip. "Our relationship always felt like it was the steadiest thing in the world to hang on to, but Dumbledore's shaken that around so much with this baby idea, I hardly know where I am."

"Right here, with me," Harry said, holding her tightly to him. "Whatever happens, Gin, we'll work through it together, I promise."

"Oh Harry," she sighed, kissing him gently. "This isn't quite the future we were talking about the other day, is it? I'd always thought we'd finish school, work for a few years and then maybe settle down. I could picture us having a wedding like some of these Muggle poems talk about, and then getting round to having a family. This all seems to be the wrong way round, somehow. Where did that fairytale disappear to?"

"Let's do it the way you'd dreamed," Harry said quietly. "Ginny, we can say no to this, and try to get things back to normal. The only thing I know for certain right now is that my future is bound to yours, for however long we've got together." He reached for her left wrist and silently traced the scar across it, and when he looked up at her, he was alarmed to see her eyes filled with tears. "Gin?"

"Sorry," she said, then laughed a little shakily. "You'd think I'd be all cried out by now, wouldn't you?"

"No," he shook his head and smiled wryly at her. "I feel like joining in and howling my head off, to be perfectly honest. This is awful, isn't it?"

Ginny swung her legs to the floor and sat up on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, and hair falling all around her. Harry heard a deep breath, then another, before she turned to face him.

"We need to talk this through properly, Harry," she said, with a flash of her usual Weasley determination. "Every single option, and no hiding from any of the consequences. At the end of the day, we need to be certain that whatever we decide is right. I don't want to look back on this and regret the decision either way."

"OK," Harry agreed slowly, taking her hands in his. "Well, Dumbledore suggested that we have this baby because Voldemort's winning the war."

"I can't imagine what it would be like if he did take over," Ginny said, paling considerably. "It's already bad enough, and some of the people he's killed…"

"Great world to bring a baby in to," Harry remarked grimly. "And just think of what we'll be asking of him if Voldemort does finally achieve what he's been trying to do to me since I was a year old. How can anyone live up to those expectations?"

"You're managing," Ginny smiled up at him.

"Yeah, but only just," he smiled ruefully back. "You know what scares me more than anything else about this?" He paused and she shook her head. "By the way Dumbledore was talking, it would make sense if he'd said the same thing to my mum and dad, and look what happened there. What happens if… Ginny, what's stopping the whole thing from happening all over again? History repeating itself, but this time with you and me."

"It might," she said slowly, cuddling into him. "But just think for a second what would happen if we _don't_ have the baby. It'll be easier now, and I'll never deny that, but Voldemort's out there, Harry. The things he's doing are…" she broke off and swallowed.

"If we can stop him like this, I really think we've got to try."

"I might be lucky again, and survive, in which case, why bother having the baby?"

"Because we want to?" she suggested softly, clutching his hands tighter. Harry forgot to breathe.

"W-What?" he gasped. "But you said…"

"Harry, we'd have come to this point sooner or later anyway," she said honestly. "I know it's not the perfect romantic way of doing things, but it's still with you." She grinned suddenly. "I'd prefer to be cast out to eat thistles with you, than to be having a five course feast without you."

"But you should be having the banquet," Harry insisted vehemently. "You deserve it, Ginny."

"That doesn't matter to me, and you know it doesn't," she said simply. "The fact remains that we love each other, and that seems to me to be a pretty solid basis on which to start a family."

Harry swallowed.

"You're serious?" he managed to say, in very strangled tones. "I know I said I wanted that one day, but I wasn't expecting that day to arrive quite so soon."

"Me neither," Ginny replied. "I know everyone will say we're too young, but with what we've been through these past couple of years, I feel an awful lot older than sixteen."

"That's true enough," he said, images of recent torture burning into his mind. He suppressed a shudder at the memory of the high-pitched, merciless laughter ringing through his ears. The dark brown pools of Ginny's eyes were fixed upon his own, offering warmth and love. "You really want to do this?" he whispered.

"I think so," she said carefully. "I know it'll mean giving up a lot, but I'm sure we could do it."

"Ginny, think about it for a second," Harry exclaimed, his mind whirling with the possibilities. "I'm not saying no, but can you imagine how much danger you'd be in if Voldemort found out you were pregnant? Anything could happen."

"Harry, something could happen to me anyway," she said earnestly. "Having this baby might not be any more risky than things are already."

"And how did you work that out?" he smiled.

"Well," she replied. "Who would need to know? My parents, my brothers, Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey." She ticked them off on her fingers. "Not a single one of them would betray us to Voldemort and I'm only in more danger if he finds out about it."

"Gin," Harry sighed patiently. "It'll be patently obvious to anyone who looks sooner or later."

"Not necessarily," she grinned impishly, making Harry sit up with interest. "Wizard robes are pretty baggy to begin with, but there are all sorts of ways to transfigure your shape, even some charms of illusion where you can appear to be something you're not. I reckon I could hide it."

"You probably could," he admitted, well aware of her talent in that realm of magic. He hesitated, and looked steadily at her. "Ginny, there are still a lot of reasons not to be doing this. At the risk of sounding like your parents, you've got another two years of school to get through for a start. Whatever happens you've _got_ to finish school."

"I know," she said, frowning suddenly. "Dumbledore said that arrangements could be made. Maybe I could try and take my N.E.W.T.s a year early in some classes, like Transfiguration and Muggle Studies. If I worked at it, I could probably do it, but I'd still have some subjects left over."

Harry got to his feet and paced across the room, staring out of the window and down the deserted pot holed drive. They could do this; he was certain they could. In fact, difficult as it might be to have a baby with Ginny, he was startled to realise that he couldn't imagine anything he'd like more. The thought of having her there with him for the rest of his life, was something that made him want to yell aloud with happiness, and a baby… _their _baby… he couldn't help smiling at the thought.

"How would you feel about doing your last year as a day student?" Harry asked suddenly, feeling a glimmer of an idea spread through him.

"A day student?" she echoed, sounding slightly bewildered.

"I'm pretty sure Dumbledore would let you," Harry explained quickly, sitting back down on the bed beside her. "Ginny, think about it for a second. If we do go ahead with this, what's preventing us from renting a house in Hogsmeade, and you can go into Hogwarts each day?"

"Nothing, I suppose," she said, smiling at his enthusiasm. "But have you forgotten the small factor of the hypothetical offspring? Who's going to look after him, or are you expecting me to sneak a baby into Potions lessons in my bag?"

"No," he grinned, imagining Snape's reactions at the sudden appearance of yet another Potter in his classroom. "I'd need to check at Gringott's, but I think we could get by for a year or so without me earning any money, and you've heard your mum on the subject of grandchildren. I'm sure she'd have no qualms about teaching me how to look after a baby."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" she said, looking at him in amazement.

"Once or twice," he laughed.

"I really wouldn't have to give up school?"

"Over my dead body," he began and then froze, looking at her horrified expression. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"I know," she said, catching her breath. "It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Gin, it might not be fine; just suppose we do this, and Voldemort manages to kill me," he said, feeling a cold dread settle into his stomach like a lump of lead. Ginny began to protest, but Harry shook his head. "We know it could happen. How on earth would you manage on your own with a baby?" He took one look at her face and felt a surge of guilt. "Gin, I'm sorry, but we have to do this; you said yourself we've got to look at all the possibilities, no matter how awful they are."

"I'd not really be on my own, I suppose," she said, chewing her lip. "Mum and Dad seem to be fairly realistic about this whole business, so I could come back here if… if…" She gulped and then looked him straight in the eye. "Harry," she said firmly. "We've got to be well prepared, that's all. At least we know what Voldemort did to your mum and dad, so we can work to make sure it doesn't happen to us. Dumbledore has had some sort of protection spell on you at the Dursley's for the past sixteen years, we could do another one on our baby. There's the _Fidelius_ Charm as well if we have to. We've just got to make sure we're safe, one way or another."

"You sound pretty certain," he said, smiling across at her.

"I need more time to get used to the idea," she replied thoughtfully. "But apart from that, I know it's the right thing to do. What do you think?"

"I think you're incredible," Harry said fervently, wrapping her tightly in his arms and kissing her. "You're also completely right, not that I ever intend to get into the habit of telling you that." He laughed as she gently elbowed him in the ribs in mock-protest, and fell backwards on the bed, taking her with him.

"What sort of timescale do you reckon Dumbledore has on this?" she asked, wriggling closer to him. "I mean, he doesn't expect us to do anything straight away, does he?"

"I think it has to be reasonably soon," Harry said, reflecting on the conversation the previous evening. "But how would you feel about waiting until you're actually seventeen? It's not far off, and I'd feel a lot happier if you could use magic wherever you were to protect yourself."

"A couple of months breathing space sounds perfect," she admitted. "I suppose if things are taking a turn for the worse, we could always bring it forward, or it gives us a chance to change our minds completely after this pressure goes. Halloween would mean that," she counted forwards beneath her breath before continuing, "the baby would arrive in the summer, after all the exams and everything. That would work."

"Gin," he said curiously. "That would make it term time when we… er… well… y'know." He felt the heat rise into his cheeks and barely knew where to look, until he heard her giggle.

"Have sex?" she queried innocently.

"Er… yes," he stuttered, blushing madly. "How are we going to manage that at Hogwarts?"

"I suppose that's one of the things we need to talk to Dumbledore about," Ginny grinned impishly at him, looking slightly pink herself. "But you'll have to work on articulating the concept a bit more clearly than that. I mean, if you can't talk about the theory, how on earth are you going to cope when we finally get round to the practical?"

He chuckled, and settled into a more comfortable position, letting the sensation of relief drift over him. A decision had been reached, and although it wasn't the easiest of the options they had faced, it was undoubtedly the right one. He mulled over the idea of the baby again in his mind in the stillness that invaded the room.

"What do you reckon this baby of ours will be like?" he asked at length.

"Oh it'll have all of our worst features but magnified a hundred fold," Ginny laughed.

"Can you imagine it? A tiny one with my temper."

"My knobbly knees," Harry grinned, and then burst out laughing. "Or my hair! Poor kid."

"And it'll perpetually be getting itself into dangerous situations," Ginny giggled. "You'll have no hair left before you're thirty if he's anything like Fred and George."

"Gin, we'll have no _house_ left if this child is anything like Fred and George," Harry exclaimed, chuckling away at the concept.

"Were you serious about that?" Ginny asked, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "Finding a house and moving in together in Hogsmeade."

"Absolutely," he replied. "Unless you don't want to."

"Don't be silly; of course I want to," she smiled, cuddling in to him. "It's as close as we're going to get to the fairytale, isn't it?"

"Mmm," Harry replied slightly distantly, as a new thought took root in his mind, and began to germinate rapidly.


	7. Telling the Family

_Thanks for the reviews please keep letting me know what you think and I'll get the next chapter up in the next day or so. As ever, these are JKR's wonderful characters._ Telling the Family

"_Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,_

_And Fear, and Bloodshed…_

_Turns his necessity to glorious gain."_

William Wordsworth: "Character of the Happy Warrior"

Voices reverberated around the hallway downstairs, indicating that people were returning home for the evening. Thudding footsteps charged past Ginny's door, and a slamming noise quite close by their heads broke the tranquillity of the afternoon.

"Fred and George," she muttered sleepily, and gave a little yawn.

"We're going to have to tell them, you know," Harry said, shivering suddenly as if someone had just slid partially thawed ice cubes down his neck. "None of your family are going to like this, and that's probably a serious understatement."

"They'll have to like it," Ginny replied grimly, sitting up and shaking her hair back off her face. "At the end of the day it's not their decision. I vote we tackle Mum and Dad first, and once they've accepted it, then we let my brothers know." She chuckled suddenly. "With a bit of luck Mum'll become ferociously protective of us, then they daren't do anything too bad, but I'd advise you to be careful with your food for the next few days, especially with Fred and George around."

"Thanks," Harry said dryly. He grinned and prodded her gently in the ribs. "How come I'm the one getting the blame for this anyway?"

"Who could possibly blame me?" Ginny asked, wearing her most angelic expression. Harry choked.

"Come on, then," he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand for her. "Let's get it over with. How are we going to do this?"

"It's just before dinner," Ginny mused. "Mum'll be cooking in the kitchen, and these days Dad's often dozing in the living room by now." She looked at Harry and pulled a face. "I'll do Mum; she's more likely to explode. Will you be OK talking to Dad?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, feeling his heart sink with every step he took towards the door.

"I've got a few things I need to ask him about anyway."

"You'll be fine," she whispered, pulling him into a hug. A low chuckle and more footsteps hurried past, lighter this time, and faded away as they ascended the next flight of stairs. "Ron and Hermione," she identified the sounds and grinned. "Honestly, it's like King's Cross Station past my door sometimes. You want to hear it when Bill and Charlie are home."

They walked slowly downstairs, hand in hand, and paused briefly in the darkness between the two rooms. He gazed down at her, and felt a warmth surge through his veins, knowing that she loved him. Their lips met with a peculiarly tender kiss, each holding onto the other to stave off the impending sense of doom. Ginny eventually pulled away, and smiled at him.

"Good luck," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

"You too," he responded, feeling her fingers disappear from beyond his grasp as she vanished into the kitchen. Knowing there was nothing more to be done, Harry heaved a sigh, and strode directly into the living room, determined to see this through.

Mr Weasley was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, absorbed in a copy of _"The Daily Prophet,"_ which blazed the legend, _"Ministry Blunder Causes Mayhem."_ Harry closed the door firmly behind him and vainly attempted to flatten his hair, but to no avail. He stood irresolutely in the corner for a moment, and then forced himself to cross the room and sit on the footstool.

"Ah, Harry!" Mr Weasley said, lowering the newspaper, and folding it neatly in half. He looked completely exhausted, but his eyes were alert as he examined Harry seriously though his glasses. "How are things today?" he added, concern filling his voice.

"Er…" Harry began, and noticing that his throat suddenly seemed very dry, he coughed and began again. "We… we've been talking. Well, we've been talking a lot really, and…" He broke off. Mr Weasley was quite literally ageing before his eyes; his hair seemed thinner than ever, and worry lined his face.

"It's all right, Harry," Mr Weasley said, sighing to himself. "I'm not blaming you for this, for any of this."

"It feels like it's all my fault," Harry said despondently. "Ginny wouldn't have been dragged into any of this if it hadn't been for me."

"We can't change that," Mr Weasley responded quietly. "We can only work with what we have, Harry, and sort out what we're going to do from here."

"I know," Harry agreed, and then before he could stop himself, he blurted out. "We've decided."

"And?" Mr Weasley's voice became grave, and at the same time a horrified shriek rang out from the kitchen, making them both jump.

"Things are bad out there, aren't they?" Harry asked, running his hands through his hair. "They're even worse than most people know about."

"Yes Harry, they are," he said seriously. "The Ministry is virtually collapsing around us, and it wouldn't take much for He Who Must Not Be Named to seize power, and that's something I never want to see." There was a long pause.

"We're going to do what Dumbledore asked," Harry said slowly. "We've thought it through, and we know it's going to be incredibly difficult, but we still want to."

"I see," Mr Weasley nodded, his face still rather grey as it had been the previous evening. "Have you worked out how you're going to manage the baby and school?"

"Yes," Harry admitted, and outlined his plan to Mr Weasley. He talked of their thoughts about waiting until Ginny's seventeenth birthday, the arrival of the baby after the end of the school year, and his suggestions about how Ginny could still finish school. "We'll need your help," he confessed, "but it can be done, and I will look after her, you know."

"Yes, Harry," Mr Weasley replied. "But you may well not have a choice. You understand better than most people what You Know Who is capable of."

"History repeating itself," Harry murmured.

"Exactly," Mr Weasley said gently.

"We've got two months to find spells to keep Ginny and the baby safe," Harry explained feeling a surge of determination and looking directly at Mr Weasley. "I'll do anything."

"We'd better start looking into it," Mr Weasley said, getting wearily to his feet and heading across to the bookshelves lining the opposite wall. "I thought you'd come to this decision, Harry, and for what it's worth if I'd been in your situation I'd have probably done the same thing. All the same, it's not quite the future I was expecting for my daughter, and it's going to take quite some time to get used to this."

Harry felt awful, a feeling that was magnified by the sobbing sounds emanating from the kitchen. He sneaked a sideways look at Mr Weasley, wondering how he could possibly broach the other topic he desperately wanted to discuss with him. At least with the baby idea, someone else had brought it up, but this concept had been entirely unspoken, and he had no idea how Mr Weasley would react. He repeated the words in his mind, as he had done over and over again throughout the afternoon, and took a deep breath. He had faced far worse things than this before; surely dealing with Voldemort, Dementors and various magical creatures of Hagrid's had to be harder than this? To his surprise, Harry realised he was shaking and hurriedly folded his arms to stop it showing.

"Er…" he began, immediately cursing himself for his eloquence. "Can I," his voice squeaked as it hadn't for quite a few years now. He cleared his throat, hoping against hope that Mr Weasley hadn't noticed. "Can I ask you about… um… something?"

"Yes," Mr Weasley answered, drawing out the word slowly. He sat back down, worn spell book open in hand and regarded Harry.

"It's… well… er… it's…" Harry stuttered, forcing himself to stay where he was, rather than leaping to his feet and running for the door. "I mean…" He could feel his face flushing, and mentally kicked himself.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, it's just… er… yeah, that's it… um," Harry tried again. "Ginny."

"What about her?" her father prompted with a very anxious expression on his face.

"I-I wanted to ask, well I suppose you know that by now, don't you," Harry laughed nervously. "I mean, how could you not know I'm trying to ask you something? Er…"

"Harry," Mr Weasley said warningly.

"Yeah, right. I s'pose by now you know how I feel about her," his insides shuddered as if containing terrified fairies desperate to escape. "I wondered if… somehow… I mean, even maybe in the future if you don't want us to now… but I want to… I really do want to… um… would you… please… let me marry her?"

It was out. Harry struggled to catch his breath and waited in absolute terror for the response. By the time he actually dared look, Mr Weasley's face was entirely impassive.

"Marry my daughter?" each word was picked out with the precision clearness and ferocity of a bullet.

"Yes," Harry croaked, wishing the floor would swallow him up. "I love her and… and I _want_ to marry her."

"I see," Mr Weasley commented, peering sternly at Harry over his glasses, making him wilt like the plant in the hallway. "And what exactly are your prospects young man?"

"P-Prospects?" Harry stammered blankly.

"Yes, prospects," Mr Weasley said briskly. "Are you capable of keeping my daughter in the manner to which she'd like to become accustomed?" A twinkle appeared in his eye.

"I don't know," Harry replied, in complete bewilderment.

"And your future career?" Mr Weasley prompted. "Come now, what are you good at?"

"Just Q-Quidditch," Harry stuttered. "But…"

"And you consider yourself worthy to marry my daughter?" Mr Weasley commented, staring fiercely at Harry once more.

"No, I know she's far too good for me, and there's no way I deserve her," Harry burst out. "All I want to do is keep her happy, and make everything perfect for her. Why should she go through all this and make do with second best? I'd have wanted to marry her even if Dumbledore hadn't suggested the baby, but now that he has, it's just another reason to make it right."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Harry," Mr Weasley's face broke into his usual benevolent smile. "It would have been impossible to let her go to anyone who loved her less. Now, I take it you've not asked her yet, but when exactly were you thinking about getting married?"

"What?" Harry gasped in total shock. "You mean you'll let me? Really?"

Mr Weasley laughed.

"Yes, Harry, it will be a pleasure to have you as an official member of the family, presuming Ginny's happy with the idea, of course." He sat back in his chair and chuckled. "As I only have one daughter, that was my single opportunity of having someone run the same gauntlet I had to when I asked Molly's father. You fared a lot better than I did, I have to say; I ended up accidentally transfiguring their sofa into a wobbling jelly in sheer panic."

"You didn't," Harry laughed.

"I did," Mr Weasley smiled. "Strawberry jelly. I've never yet been allowed to forget it. Worth it, of course, but it's rather fun being on the other end and really making a young man squirm over his feelings for your daughter."

"You definitely did that all right," Harry remarked, grinning irrepressibly. "I really can ask her? Honestly?"

"Of course," Mr Weasley chuckled. "Now, stop asking me before I change my mind."

"I thought her birthday might be a good time to get married," Harry confided. "The problem is, we're really going to have to do everything in total secrecy, otherwise Voldemort could find out."

"That's true," Mr Weasley said thoughtfully. "Especially with the baby, we've got to be incredibly careful. I'll tell you what Harry, leave this with me. I need to see Dumbledore later this week anyway about some Ministry business, and it would make sense to discuss this with him at the same time. That way we're not arousing suspicion about unusual journeys to Hogwarts."

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, still grinning like mad.

"And might I suggest you let me tell Molly about this? I daresay that may well help soothe matters a little there. Speaking of which, I'd better head through to the kitchen quite swiftly," Mr Weasley smiled, getting to his feet. "Just to make sure murder has not been committed. I'll send Ginny through in a minute."

Unable to believe his luck Harry sank back happily into a chair wondering how Ginny would react when he proposed. The kitchen door was ajar, and voices wafted through

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed in rather mournful tones. "Did Harry tell you?"

"Yes, he did," her husband replied calmly. "They'll manage, Molly. It's all been worked out sensibly." There was some a muttered exchange between various voices and a few moments later Harry heard the click of the kitchen door, and sat up sharply. A pair of dark brown eyes appeared almost immediately, twinkling impishly at him from around the door.

"How did it go?" she asked, scuttling across the room and curling up comfortably on his lap.

"Pretty well," Harry said, hugging her tightly. "Your dad's being incredible about all of this. It sounded a lot more dramatic at your end."

"It was a bit," she rolled her eyes. "Mum got pretty upset, and I ended up promising her something. I really hope you don't mind."

"Go on, tell me the worst," he teased. "What have you got us into this time?"

"I said we'd come back to the Burrow in July after term finishes so that I can have the baby here with Mum around."

"Ginny, that's perfect," he said in total honesty. "I hadn't even thought about that, but we'll definitely be best off here then."

"We can move to somewhere in Hogsmeade later in the summer, once everything's settled down a bit," she explained, leaning in to kiss him.

"Gin," Harry said quietly. "There's something I want to ask you."

"What?" she asked in an equally soft tone. "Is it about the baby?"

"Not exactly," he began, but was interrupted by two familiar figures wandering in from the hallway, looking distinctly bemused.

"What's going on?" Ron demanded, staring at the pair of them.

"What do you mean by that?" Ginny asked instantly. "Who says anything's going on?"

"Ginny, don't take me for an idiot," he snapped. "How obvious does it have to be? I

haven't even seen Harry for the past twenty-four hours, apart from when I got up this morning and about thirty seconds in the kitchen."

"Why does that mean there's a problem?" she said incredulously. "You don't have to live in each other's pockets all day."

"Ginny, he's sharing my room," Ron explained patiently. "Of course I expect to see him from time to time. And speaking of sharing rooms, why hasn't Hermione been allowed anywhere near your bedroom all day?"

"We've been in there talking about some stuff," Harry explained, glancing nervously at Ginny. "Everything's more-or-less sorted through now."

"Ron's right," Hermione said, frowning at Harry. "This doesn't add up. There's something very strange going on here, and I can't help thinking it's to do with Dumbledore. That was when all this started."

"And why are Mum and Dad closeted up in the kitchen?" Ron interjected, shaking his head. "They never do that, even when they're having a massive row, and they're not doing that now, or we'd hear them."

Harry glanced over at Ginny, feeling the knot of nerves beginning to tighten in his stomach once more. Her face showed similar apprehension. Ron and Hermione weren't going to give up easily and they would need to know sooner or later, but how on earth could they break news like this to them? Ginny nodded.

"You're not going to like this," Harry began, holding Ginny tightly to him.

"I don't care if I like it or not, I just want to know what's going on," Ron protested. "Honestly, the things that have been running through my mind today, you have no idea."

"Dumbledore came to talk to me about why Voldemort has been trying to kill me," Harry explained. "You know we've always wondered about that, well, now I know."

"So why, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

"It's complicated, but basically it's because of the equilibrium of the planets when Harry was born, and the fact that this seems to be handed down from father to son in the Potter family," Ginny explained.

"Truitinae Bonitas?" Hermione queried.

"You _know_ about that?" Harry said astounded.

"Yes," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "It was in that section about you in the Dark Arts book I bought in Diagon Alley."

"That'll teach you not to read up on yourself in Florean Fortescue's," Ron sniggered. "Go on then, what is it?"

"It means that Harry can harness a particularly powerful brand of magic to alter the balance of good and evil," Hermione said. "It's quite fascinating to read about, but oh Harry, that would explain all about You Know Who, wouldn't it?"

"That's not all," Harry said bleakly. "There just so happens to be an ancient prophecy stating that only someone from my family can stop Voldemort."

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?" Ron asked. "At least it means he's not guaranteed to take over."

"But Harry's the last of his family," Ginny said, looking at him quickly. "What do you think would happen if he does kill Harry? He's had a few pretty good attempts at that so far."

Ron swore softly beneath his breath.

"Harry, you've got to be careful. Maybe we should look into protection spells and…" Hermione began, looking very white and talking at a terrific speed.

"Hermione!" Harry protested. "We've always known he's wanted to kill me, and all that's changed now is that we know the consequences of what will happen when he does. Dumbledore reckons he'll confront me very soon, and because he's so powerful now, this is likely to be the last time, one way or another."

"And if you die…" Ron said in total horror, unable to complete the sentence. There was total silence as all four of them registered the implications.

"Dumbledore suggested a solution," Ginny said at last, her eyes fixed on her brother. "But you're not going to want to hear it."

"Are you kidding?" Ron said instantly. "Any solution to this has got to be worth trying, even if it doesn't work. What is it?"

"Dumbledore said that we should consider," Harry began, and glanced at Ginny, who was still tightly curled up on his lap.

"Having a baby," Ginny finished quietly. "Another Potter."

There was a stunned pause and a sharp intake of breath. Ron had turned crimson to the roots of his vibrantly red hair. His jaw worked up and down, but no sound came out.

"You're joking?" he choked out eventually. "How does he expect you to do that?"

"Same way that everyone else conceives babies," Ginny said dryly.

"But Ginny," Ron protested, hands clutching his hair in disbelief. "You can't. You just can't."

"Can't we?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. The colour in Ron's face flooded out entirely, leaving him a similar pearly-white shade to Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

"You're… _going_… to?" he said in sheer incredulity.

"Don't be silly, of course they're not…" Hermione began bracingly, glancing up at Harry for support. Her eyes widened and she froze mid-flow.

"Yes, we are," Harry said firmly. "We've talked it through and it's the only way."

"What?" Ron yelled shattering the quietness of the house. "Harry, how can you do this to her?"

"He's not forcing me into anything, Ron," Ginny hissed furiously at her brother. "I happen to think that it's the right thing to do. I want to do it."

"How can you say that?" Ron shouted at her, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "Ginny, you're sixteen. You're my _little _sister."

"You think I hadn't noticed that?" she retorted, her voice raising a few notches. "Being your little sister doesn't give you the right to run my life for me. We've had this argument before, Ron, and you know you're in the wrong."

"I can't believe you're thinking about this," Hermione gasped, looking from Harry to Ginny and then back again, in sheer astonishment. "What about _school_?"

"School will be fine," Harry tried to explain, but Ron cut across him.

"I'm not wrong on this Ginny. There's no way you two can have a baby; you still haven't grown out of stealing our socks, and unless it's to do with Quidditch, Harry wouldn't have a clue. How do you expect to take care of an infant?"

"Thanks!" Harry retorted, feeling his own anger mounting inside. "We have actually thought about this you know, and it wasn't an easy decision by a long shot."

"Why couldn't you have decided not to, if it was so difficult?" Ron bellowed.

"You know why," Ginny snapped instantly.

"But your exams," Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "What about your exams?"

"Mine'll be all over by the time the baby arrives," Harry answered. "And as for Ginny…"

"Yes, what about her?" Ron interrupted furiously. "Now you're expecting her to drop out of school are you? Harry, I can't believe you're going to let her do this."

"No," Ginny shot back. "I'll be finishing school."

"And how are you expecting to do that?" her brother yelled. "Quill in one hand, baby in the other?"

"I won't be working," Harry said with determination. "Ginny will finish school, and hopefully Dumbledore will agree to her doing that as a day student, going in from Hogsmeade every day."

"That doesn't sound so bad, I suppose," Hermione said very slowly, still looking rather stunned.

"Not bad?" Ron repeated at top volume. "He's talking about getting my baby sister pregnant and then living with her, and you say that's not bad? Are you hearing this right Hermione?"

"Just shut up!" Ginny yelled back, close to tears. "It's not like that, and you know it's not."

The kitchen door was flung open, and Mr and Mrs Weasley appeared in the living room within seconds. Harry wrapped Ginny tightly in his arms.

"Mum!" Ron appealed to her. "Have you heard this rubbish Harry and Ginny are talking about?"

"Yes dear," she answered, surveying the scene, and smiling fondly at Harry.

"Surely you're not going to let them?" Ron shouted. "I mean, this whole thing is just ridiculous."

"Calm down, Ron," Mr Weasley said placidly. "It's not going to help with you losing your temper."

"Ron, she's going to need you more than ever now," Harry said, clutching a quietly sobbing Ginny to him. "I do too, if it comes to that. If Voldemort finds out about this…"

"So you're putting her in more danger?" Ron shook his head. "I thought you'd have been put off that idea after she almost got killed. Or wasn't that enough for you, Harry?"

"That's not fair," Ginny responded, lifting her tear stained face from Harry's shoulder. "He nearly died for me that day, and you know he did." "Enough!" Mr Weasley said firmly. "Ron you need to calm down. Think it over. Nothing is going to be happening immediately, but we all need to stand together on this one. You Know Who is going to be a threat, but if we are strong as a family, then we will get through this, all of us."

"You've all gone mad," Ron cried, leaping to his feet. "This is… No!" He turned and ran out of the room, crashing blindly up the stairwell.


	8. A Question and an Answer

_As ever, JKR's characters and world. Hope you enjoy this one – please do leave a review. Alphie has done a wonderful illustration of this event, which you can find at QoHG_ A Question And An Answer"Love is a circle that doth restless move

_In that same sweet eternity of love."_

Robert Herrick

Harry sat on the edge of his bed in Ron's room and regarded the delicate piece of jewellery balanced in the outstretched palm of his hand. A tiny circle of gold, smaller than the diameter of a knut shone gently in the early morning sunshine, as it rocked from side to side beneath his clumsy touch. Picking it up, he allowed it to slide onto his forefinger, smiling to see it drop down only as far as his first joint. The stone glittered and sparkled as its many facets reflected the light, and Harry hoped that he had made the right choice.

Two days before he had been standing in bustling Diagon Alley, safely concealed within his invisibility cloak, and accompanied by a very impatient and rather grumpy Ron. Hermione had been given the task of distracting Ginny for the afternoon, and it was with much bullying and cajoling that Harry had tried to persuade Ron to help him in the purchase of that very ring. Ron had finally agreed, pointing out that he was only doing this to stop You Know Who from attacking them, not because he approved of anything to do with Dumbledore's plans in the slightest.

The window of _Goblins' Gem Emporium_ seemed to be quite literally littered with such a vast array of magpie-attracting items, that Harry had scarcely known where to begin. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted something as close to a Muggle engagement ring as he could manage, knowing she would be totally entranced by the idea of something so closely linked with the poetry she adored. He mused for some time about the colour of the stone, wondering first of all about a ruby that echoed some of the shades of red running through Ginny's hair. He fleetingly considered an emerald in the display, but with Ron's sniggering imitation of his mother saying, "I thought it would match your eyes, Harry dear," he completely abandoned that idea and finally settled on a single diamond, which reminded him of the star-like necklace, the first thing he had ever bought for her.

As the door of the dimly lit shop chimed to permit them entry, the tiny goblin behind the counter regarded Ron with an air of contempt, eyes scathingly raking over the worn Muggle attire that was the norm in The Burrow during the school holidays. The clink of Galleons in the money bag that Harry had pressed into Ron's hands outside the shop, along with fiercely whispered instructions, caused the goblin's pointed ears to prick up and his face broke away from scepticism into a deeply calculating smile.

"Ah yes," the goblin said in an oily tone, levitating the ring in question in mid air before them and making it revolve slowly. "An excellent choice, if I may say so. This has only recently arrived here from one of our best teams of dwarves, and was hewn from one of their caverns deep beneath an area of the Scottish Highlands. An exceptionally pretty stone, sir; as exquisite as your young lady, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Ron responded in a rather disinterested manner. Harry prodded him angrily in the back, but Ron ignored him.

"Oh, but Sir, how can one not be enchanted with so perfect a thing?" the goblin began again, beaming more brightly than ever and revealing his very sharp yellowed teeth. "The cut is unsurpassed."

"I'm sure there are others just as good, if not here, then elsewhere," Ron smiled at the tiny creature, causing the ring to pause in mid-air. "A wonderful sales technique, I agree, but it's certainly not worth the quantity of Galleons you're asking for it."

"I see," the goblin said sharply, his grin disappeared and was replaced by a shrewd look in his eyes. "Perhaps if I ask for 20 galleons less, Sir may be interested?"

"Fifty," Ron said, glancing towards the doorway.

"But Sir, I will never make ends meet," the goblin protested at once. "My wife, and family, they will starve; we will be thrown into the gutter…"

"Fifty," Ron interrupted him firmly. There was a pause and Ron moved purposefully towards the door as Harry watched in silent anguish.

"Forty," the goblin offered in slightly more desperate tones.

"Done," Ron said, with a furtive grin sideways at the space where he knew Harry was standing.

The ring was duly paid for and they headed back into Diagon Alley, to the safety of a back room of _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ where Harry had finally dispensed with the cloak, and simply stared incredulously at Ron.

"Here you go," Ron threw the small ring box across to him. "Hope she likes it."

"What happened back there?" Harry asked feeling somewhat bewildered.

"Got to watch goblins," Ron explained, examining a bar of Honeyduke's best chocolate on the bench carefully. He prodded it suspiciously with his wand. Nothing happened. "They rip you off every which way they can, you know."

"But why do that for me?" Harry persisted. "You don't want any of this to be going on."

"You're right, I don't," Ron admitted, tentatively breaking the chocolate into segments, and waiting for an explosion that never came. "But I know you're going to do this anyway, no matter what I think. Forty Galleons is money you'll need, Harry. Just because I don't approve doesn't mean I don't care about what happens to you both." He sniffed the chocolate suspiciously and then swallowed a piece.

"Thanks," Harry grinned, and watched his best friend turn into a very embarrassed-looking pumpkin.

Harry laughed quietly at the memory, and carefully replaced the ring in the dark blue velvet of the box, closing the lid with a snap. He had thought carefully about how he was actually going to ask Ginny to marry him, and remembering the complete idiot he'd made of himself when he'd tried to ask her to the Yule ball that first time, he had come up with a slightly different tactic to avoid the worst of his nerves. Every pair of socks in the entirety of the Burrow had been summoned earlier that morning, and were currently invisible under Ron's bed, with a single exception. Ginny would inevitably be on a sock stealing mission once she realised her haul had vanished. Harry grinned wickedly in anticipation, and disappeared under his invisibility cloak once more.

A scamper of feet up the twisting stairs slowed to a scuffle on the landing outside. A lengthy pause followed, and Harry could just hear her catching her breath before the door slowly creaked open. A pair of dark brown eyes peeked mischievously around the wooden door, her long red hair tumbling irresistibly over her shoulder. Seeing that the room appeared to be empty, Ginny grinned happily to herself, and slipped inside, closing the door silently behind her. Casting her eyes around the room, they alighted on Harry's trunk, and she made a beeline for it, lifting the lid with the ease and familiarity of an expert. Her hands hovered over the contents of the trunk, passing over copies of _Which Broomstick_ and his robes, coming to a halt above his cauldron, which normally stored his socks. Today it was empty. She frowned in bemusement, and leaned further forwards, her torrent of hair falling so that it obscured her vision. She gave an exclamation of annoyance, and swept the offending part back off her face, where it lay quietly for a second before tumbling around her again with impish glee.

"Come on, Harry," she muttered beneath her breath. "You've got to have some socks in here somewhere."

Harry bit his lip hard to prevent himself from laughing out loud. He'd caught her on a sock stealing mission once before, and had forgotten just how funny it was. She scoured the contents of the trunk, digging beneath the surface, and finally gave a cry of delight, emerging victorious with his new pair of Chudley Cannons ones in her hand.

Harry felt his chest tightening as his heart began to beat quickly with fear. This was it. What would she say? What if…? The thought was too horrible. Surely she wouldn't turn him down. Would she? His palms suddenly seemed clammy. She began to unravel the socks from their neat ball so that she could put them on, when she stopped suddenly and frowned. He clutched at the windowsill to steady himself.

"What on earth…?" she said aloud, as her fingers encountered an unexpected solid object within the soft woollen exterior. Her hand wriggled inside the sock and emerged clutching the small navy blue box. Harry gulped. This was either the best or the worst idea he'd ever had in his entire life, and at that precise moment, he wasn't sure which. He moved silently behind her and twitched the invisibility cloak off his shoulders, letting it fall from his fingers in a silvery shimmer of flimsiest fabric.

Ginny opened the box.

Confusion flooded her features as she caught sight of the ring that nestled within. A quivering hand reached out and touched it, her slightest movement making it sparkle and glint in the sunlight as if it were winking at her. Tilting her head sideways to examine it carefully, she shivered, appearing to be uncertain about what to believe, and rubbed her hand absent-mindedly across her forehead, still clutching Harry's sock. She raised a slow eyebrow, her perplexed emotions finally giving way to a tiny smile that flickered in the corners of her mouth.

"So do you like it then?" Harry could resist it no longer, and his hand gently touched her back. She gave a sharp squeak of surprise and whirled around to face him.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, panting in panic, and her eyes far wider than normal. "W-What?"

"Sorry," he smiled apologetically. "I just wanted to know what you thought of it."

"It's beautiful," she said, still breathing very unsteadily. Her deep brown eyes lifted to his, somehow melting away the worst of his fears.

"Gin," he said, softly, caressing a hand down her cheek. "You know I love you, and I want to be with you always. I didn't mean to scare you but this is the best way I could find to offer you every single sock I'll ever possess for the rest of my life. I wondered if you would think about marrying me, because I can't think of anything I would like more."

There was a strangled gasp from Ginny, who swayed slightly beneath his touch and stared incredulously at him as if he'd just transfigured himself into a towering stack of Muggle poetry books. Her eyebrows spoke volumes as they knitted together trying to comprehend, and her eyes never once left his face in the stunned silence that followed.

"You… you?" she stammered at last, clutching the tiny box still in her left hand. "Harry? Serious? Me?" She caught her breath, looking to all intents and purposes as if she'd completely lost the ability to string a sentence together. Harry chuckled quietly. It was incredibly unusual to see anything taking the wind out of Ginny's sails, and for once he seemed to have done that most effectively.

"Yes you," he smiled down at her. "Do you honestly think I'd let anyone else share my socks?" She giggled slightly and gazed up at him with an awed expression.

"You mean it?" she whispered, her voice cracking towards the end of the question.

"Of course I mean it," he said fervently, pulling her hands and their contents into his own. "Ginny, I want to marry you. I want to do everything properly, and I know it's going to be difficult, what with the baby and everything, but we'll be fine as long as we work through this together."

There was an awkward pause, during which Harry was alarmed to see an expression of hurt filling her eyes. She pulled away from him, and examined a poster of the Chudley Cannons Chasers scoring a spectacular goal with apparently studious interest before turning to face him again.

"So you're asking me just because of the baby, then?" she asked in a terrifyingly quiet monotone, biting her lip so that the redness stood out against the pallor of her face. He could see her trembling.

"What?" he almost yelled in disbelief. "Ginny? How can you think that?"

"What else am I supposed to think, Harry?" she responded passionately, the emotional turbulence of the past few days beginning to storm once more "You can't expect me to do this just because of the baby."

"I'm not!" Harry protested vehemently. "Ginny, I love you, I really do."

"I know you do," she admitted, sounding as if she were being ripped in two. "But I don't want to just get married because you want to do everything right for the baby. I understand that you'd want to, but I –I can't do that."

"Gin!" Harry exclaimed. "It's _you_ I want to marry. _You._ I'd never ask for any other reason._"_

"Harry, there's no way you'd be asking me now if it wasn't for Dumbledore's suggestion, is there?" she said softly.

"I was planning on asking you anyway after I'd finished my N.E.W.T.s," Harry confessed in all honesty, looking steadily at her. "Ten months from now. I can wait those ten months if you want me to Ginny and propose again then, but nothing is going to change in the way I feel about you."

"You were going to do that?" she asked, regarding him in sheer amazement.

"Yes, but I'd hardly have told you about it, would I?" he smiled wryly. "Spoil a perfectly good surprise. The look on your face was definitely one worth seeing."

"Gaping like a goldfish?" she laughed.

"That's a pretty fair description," he teased, and lifted a lock of her hair. "And about the same colour too."

"Hey!" she protested, laughing along with him. Her right fist rested lightly on his chest, sock still clenched in her grasp and there was total silence. Harry didn't dare move. She looked at him, clearly searching for a way forward; the words were unspoken, but Harry understood.

"Ginny, please marry me."

Dark brown eyes fused with emerald green ones.

"I'd love to," she whispered.

Harry felt a rush of warm pleasure flooding through his chest and up towards his throat as he grabbed her round her waist and swung her off her feet.

"You mean it?" his whole being felt suddenly lighter and happier than he'd been in a long time. "You really will?"

"Yes," she giggled, eyes sparkling up at him from the massive smile that illuminated her entire face. "I love you, Harry Potter."

Pulling her even closer to him, he enveloped her in his arms, hugging her tightly and never wanting to let her go. The feeling of joy bubbled up inside him, exploding in an irrepressible grin of his own, as the realisation slowly sank in that she actually wanted to be with him forever. Their lips met, gently at first, sparking the familiar tingle of desire and love, swiftly dissolving into a firmer embrace in a world of darkness where only the two of them existed and time seemed to stand still.

Finally they broke apart, and Harry smiled down at her in his arms. Her hair caught in the sunlight, glittering with life, and her face was glowing with delight, warming every inch of him with happiness.

"I suppose you'd better try that ring on, then," he chuckled, kissing her forehead. "You do like it, don't you?"

"It's gorgeous, Harry," she exclaimed, watching him open the box and take it out. "Where did it come from?"

"A little shop in Diagon Alley," he explained. "Ron helped and did the actual buying for me. I couldn't be seen there in case it got back to Voldemort, and I don't want you in any more danger."

"Ron knows?"

"You don't mind, do you?" Harry asked, feeling a little anxious. "I'd rather trust him than anyone."

"I don't mind at all," Ginny said, sounding quite relieved. "To be honest, it's good that he's starting to accept things. It's funny because I know I argue with him a lot, but I really hate it when he's mad at me."

"He's not angry," Harry reassured her. "He just doesn't like what's going to happen to you, and I'd probably feel just the same in his shoes. Anyway," he changed the subject, grinned at her, blushing slightly and gestured to the ring. "May I?"

She looked up at him rather shyly and placed her left hand in his, allowing him to slide the ring a little clumsily onto her third finger. They both stared at the unfamiliar addition to her hand, the diamond flashing in the sunlight, encapsulating a multitude of colours.

"Wow!" Ginny found her voice. She flexed her fingers to examine the strange newness, sliding the ring slightly by rubbing her thumb against it. "We really are going to get married, aren't we? It's actually going to happen."

"You're not backing out of it now," Harry chuckled, lifting her hand and kissing it. "That looks far too right on your finger."

"I can't wear it, you know," she said rather sadly. "It's a dead giveaway that something's going on, and you're right, we can't let Voldemort find out about any of this."

"You can wear it here," Harry said thoughtfully. "No one comes here very often, apart from your family, and they all know about Dumbledore's plan. Once the baby's arrived, it'll be fine as well. Voldemort won't be after you then."

"Thank you," she tore her eyes away from her hand and hugged him with all her might. "I absolutely love it." She grinned, her eyes twinkling in anticipation. "So are you ready to tell my family about _this_?"

"Just about," he smiled. "Ginny, after the gauntlet your dad made me run when I asked his permission to marry you, even Fred and George will be a pushover. I mean, what's the worst they can do?"

"You really want me to answer that?" she laughed.

"Er… not really," Harry chuckled, knowing full well that he'd have blue hair or something by teatime. "Come on, then. Let's go downstairs. I think Ron'll want his room back."

She smiled angelically up at him, indicating beyond doubt that she was up to something, but for a moment he couldn't see what. They were clattering down the stairs when her right hand swung into view, clutching a successfully stolen pair of Chudley Cannons' socks.


	9. Journey to Hogwarts

_Thanks for the lovely reviews last chapter. Hope you keep enjoying and keep reviewing. As ever, this is JKR's, I'm merely playing with her wonderful creations._

Journey to Hogwarts

"_Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair_

_And makes my seated heart knock at my ribs…_

_Present fears_

_Are less than horrible imaginings."_

Shakespeare: "Macbeth"

Harry charged up the stairs, pressing himself flat against the wall as Fred, hurtled past in the opposite direction, robes flapping out behind him in his haste. The morning was well underway in The Burrow, the regular confusion of people leaving for work paling into insignificance beside four members of the household attempting to depart for Hogwarts. Crookshanks streaked across the landing, followed by an exasperated Hermione, clutching his carrying case. She bent to scoop the enormous ginger cat in her arms, but with an outraged meow of protest, Crookshanks twisted out of her reach and bolted up the next flight of stairs, bottle brush tail held high. Hermione tutted in irritation and headed after him. Harry shook his head, and laughed, before hurrying to knock on Ginny's door.

"Gin?" he asked tentatively, pushing the door open. "How are you doing?"

"I'm all packed," she said, gesturing to her tattered blue trunk and offering him a rueful smile. "Books, robes, cauldron, your socks and I've even remembered to pack my parchment this year."

Harry chuckled quietly, remembering the chaos she'd caused the previous year by leaving all of her writing materials at home. It had taken a full week for her mother to owl replacements to her, during which time, she'd driven them mad by begging, stealing and borrowing from virtually everyone she knew.

"Are you OK?" he asked, seeing a bit of a bleak expression cross her face.

"Yeah," she smiled half-heartedly at him. "I've probably been reading too much poetry and it's making me ridiculously nostalgic. Take no notice; I'm just being silly. I started thinking about things when I was finishing my packing. I'll never be in this room again, the way I am now. Next time we're back here, we'll be married and probably have the baby on the way."

"Ginny," he sighed, wrapping his arms tightly round her. "I understand completely if you want to change your mind. It's a massive step."

"It's not that," she smiled, hugging him back. "I still want to marry you and everything. It's just a bit hard to let go, that's all. Do you know what I mean?" She wrinkled her brow.

"I think so," he said slowly. "I suppose it's how I feel about leaving Hogwarts at the end of this year. It's the security thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," she agreed. "And we have no idea what's going to happen to us, or what Voldemort might do." She looked up at him suddenly, clearly struggling to force out an admission, and he felt a massive wrench at his heart. "Harry, I'm scared."

"If I'm honest, I am as well," he whispered, wishing he could somehow magic away her fears. "Your dad's still looking into spells to protect us, and he's good at those. I mean, the Ministry has got him working on magical defences at Platform 9 and ¾ today, and that's likely to be attacked, so if anything can be done for us, your dad will find it. And it's not just him: Dumbledore's onto it, and so are we. Hermione's not stopped reading spell books all summer."

"I know," she said, shivering suddenly. There was a brief pause. "So," she continued brightly. "Are you all ready for the off?"

"Yeah. You'll be careful at King's Cross, won't you, Gin? Your dad's right, it's the perfect opportunity for Death Eaters to attack with a real impact," he said anxiously. "I'm not going to fuss, but…"

"I promise I'll stay close," she smiled. Her eyes sparkled up at him in sudden amusement. "Besides, it means I can make sure you're not doing anything dangerous."

"Would I do something dangerous?" he laughed. She raised an eyebrow.

"There's a first time for everything, I suppose," she teased, as he ruffled her hair affectionately.

"I'll get your trunk down, and just follow when you're ready. I think we've got another twenty minutes or so."

"That's everything done up here," she said firmly, collecting her wand from her dresser. "It's time to go, Harry. Time to move on." She gave a final wistful glance around her room, and Harry saw her set her jaw firmly, in a very Ginnyish manner. She shook her red hair back over her shoulders with an air of defiance, and nodded in affirmation of her silent thoughts. "Let's go," she said.

Abandoning her trunk on top of the others cluttering the narrow hallway, Harry and Ginny headed into the bustle of the Weasley kitchen. A range of red heads lined the kitchen table, with Hermione sliding into a seat opposite Ron, making cooing noises at Crookshanks who was safely confined in his wicker basket.

"We'll let you out on the train, won't we Crookshanks?" she said in the soft sing-song voice that owners often use to their animals. Ron snorted disparagingly into his porridge.

"Are you four all packed?" Mrs Weasley asked briskly, serving up food for Harry and Ginny and whisking it across the kitchen with a flick of her wand. George ducked instinctively, and the blue plates clipped the top of his hair, before settling down with a clatter on the table.

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said, buttering her toast enthusiastically and crunching into it.

"What've you forgotten this time?" Fred teased. "Don't tell me…" He glanced at Harry and a wicked grin spread across his features as he continued in a far lower tone. "You haven't packed your guide to the _Contraceptus _Charm."

Harry felt his face flame with embarrassment, more heat radiating from his cheeks than from the kitchen stove. Now that the initial horror of Dumbledore's suggestion had worn off, Fred and George had resorted to making Harry feel as uncomfortable as possible around their little sister, with all sorts of jibes and tests of new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, one of which had made him grow a fur for half a day, in a vain attempt to make him less appealing to their sister. Ginny had merely proclaimed that she found hairy men extremely attractive, and feeling somewhat thwarted, Fred and George had gone back to the drawing board to plan a fresh wave of attack.

"You're right," Ginny said casually, licking a glob of marmalade off her finger. "I thought really carefully about it, and then decided I'd better leave it behind for you two. I mean, it would be a terrible tragedy if you were ever to reproduce with some poor unfortunate girl. Think of it as a damage limitation exercise."

"Nice one," Ron laughed, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. There was the sound of cars approaching in the lane, and Mrs Weasley rapidly headed out of the kitchen to speak to the taxi drivers.

"Actually, Gin," George smiled at her. "Speaking of damage limitation, we thought you'd like this." He reached behind him and pulled out a fairly large box, which had been hastily gift-wrapped with bright purple paper. She regarded it with the utmost suspicion.

"It's not my birthday," she said slowly, looking from one to the other. "And even if it was, you'd only be trying to blow my eyebrows off." She wrinkled her nose at the offending package and sat back in her chair with folded arms.

"Ginny," Fred exclaimed in exasperation. "This one is fine. The one you really need to watch out for is your wedding present."

"Fred!" his twin exclaimed. "You shouldn't _warn_ them about that. Just think how funny it'll be when it…" His voice trailed off and he laughed at the prospect, making Harry take a mental note to avoid that particular package at all costs.

"Gin," Fred insisted, his eyes twinkling with delight. "Quick! Open it before Mum gets back. There's no way she'll approve."

"OK, then, " Ginny said slowly, a grin spreading across her face. She quickly tore the bow off the parcel, and ripped through the paper until she could lift the lid. She held her breath, and winced away from the parcel as the lid raised slowly in her hands. Harry too, waited in painful anticipation for the box to ricochet off the ceiling with an enormous bang, but it never came.

"What is it?" Hermione asked curiously, leaning across the table to stare at the contents of the parcel.

"Oh wow!" Ron exclaimed, enthusiastically delving into the parcel. "There's all sorts of stuff in here. Exploding Beetle Eyes. Do you remember them, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry chuckled with a sudden delicious memory of green slime dripping off the end of Snape's nose, and the entire Slytherin cohort glooping in the same sludge. "How could I forget?"

"There's Sizzling Soap," Ginny squealed, picking a tablet out of the container. "I've been dying to try one of these out on someone for ages." She turned to Harry, who was looking somewhat perplexed and grabbed his arm. "You use the soap as normal, and after a few minutes in contact with the water it starts to fizz. Then when you try to pick it up, it hops across the bath like a frog. It's absolutely brilliant."

"And this?" Hermione said, reaching forward for a tiny circular mirror.

"Don't touch that!" Fred and George yelled in unison, making Hermione recoil her arm faster than if it had been a Blast Ended Skrewt.

"So what's all this in aid of?" Ginny said incredulously, smiling at her brothers.

"Well," George said, grinning back. "We know you're going ahead with this baby business, so we thought you could do with a real laugh in the next couple of months before you've got to be sensible."

"So we put together a box of potential mischief," Fred laughed. "See how much chaos you can cause, Ginny, and we want to know _all _about it."

"And don't forget to send us a toilet seat," George added, his eyes glinting in anticipation.

"But don't tell Mum," Fred urged his little sister. "She'll kill us for leading you astray if she finds out. Not that she can complain too much, because I dare say Harry will be leading you astray in other ways soon enough."

"Oh, I do hope so," she chuckled impishly, making her brothers do a horrified double take, and Harry redden further. "Thank you," she exclaimed, throwing an arm around each of her twin brothers and hugging them tightly.

"You take care," George said, perfectly serious for once. "You might be the world's most irritating little sister, but you're _our_ little sister, and we'd quite like you back in one piece."

"Yes," Fred added, hugging her fondly once more. "And if you are going to do this baby thing, Ginny, just make sure you have a Quidditch player."

"I'll see what I can do," she giggled. "Any particular position?"

Mrs Weasley bustled back into the kitchen amidst roars of laughter, and began to usher the four of them out of the house. Trunks and bags were levered and wedged into the boots of the cars, amidst the squawking of two excited owls and the hissing vitriol of Crookshanks. Ginny's parcel was squeezed on the top. Eventually, they were ready and settled down to a rather uneventful journey through to the hustling pace of London streets and the bumper-to-bumper impatience of Muggle motorists creating a cacophony of horns.

"Keep your eyes open," Harry muttered grimly to Ginny on the stone forecourt, as he heaved their trunks onto station trolleys, and balanced Hedwig's cage on his own. The snowy owl opened one sleepy amber eye and hooted softly at him before submerging her head back under the fluffy downiness of her wing. Mrs Weasley was fussing around them more than ever, and the anxiety appeared to be infectious. Ron appeared to have accumulated the obligatory trolley with the wonky wheel that squeaked ostentatiously as they made their way nervously through the main concourse. Sharp-suited Muggles hurried past at top speed, gazes firmly focused on the square inch of grubby white flooring immediately in front of them, briefcases clenched in one hand, telephones clamped to their ears by the other. Snatches of conversations could be caught as they passed by.

"You've left it _where_? How _many_ times have I told you how _vital _that was? Can't I trust you with _anything_?"

Harry's eyes were constantly alert, scanning the area around him for anything untoward, yet as they approached Platforms 9 and 10 and the magical barrier through to the Hogwarts Express, he had seen nothing.

"I'll be pleased when you're all safely back at school," Mrs Weasley said, looking rather pale. "Harry, why don't you take Ginny through first, and we'll follow right behind you? We've not got long before the barrier's sealed."

Harry glanced at the dominant black hands on the enormous clock that was suspended from the rafters of the station, and realised that there were a mere five minutes to go before they departed. He nodded, his reply drowned out by a foggy tannoy announcement that reverberated about the delayed ten twenty-eight to Bristol Temple Meads. He put one hand over Ginny's as they pushed their trolleys forwards, determined that if some Dark wizard had somehow turned the barrier into a port key or portal, at least they'd end up wherever it was together. Unobtrusively they slid through and materialised as normal in front of the scarlet steam train bearing the legend _Hogwarts Express_.

Ron, Hermione and Mrs Weasley emerged from the barrier almost instantly, and without speaking, they hurried towards the furthest end of the train, to where Mr Weasley was regarding the entire scene nervously. One thing struck Harry, as they wound their way down the curving platform; there was a marked reduction in the quantity of pupils and parents. The area was still littered with groups of people saying their goodbyes, but it was nowhere near the quantity they were used to. He felt a spasm of uneasiness wondering why this was so. Had people been killed, or were parents simply too afraid to let their offspring return to the castle?

"I'm pleased you're here," Mr Weasley said, in a strained voice, helping them to stow their belongings in a empty carriage. "We need to get the train off as quickly as possible. You remember Darius Parker? He's in charge here today, and he's about to explode with all this tension. We've got every inch of the track covered between here and Hogwarts, but that doesn't mean anything these days." He regarded all four of them seriously. "I want you to make sure you all stay together until you're actually safely in the castle."

"We will," Hermione promised readily, and the others nodded.

"We'll come through at the end of October if we can," Mrs Weasley whispered tearfully, kissing her daughter goodbye. "But not if it's going to put you in danger. Either of you."

"We'll be fine," Ginny said, smiling sideways at Harry. "And I'll keep you posted about what's happening."

"Be careful what you write, Ginny," her father reminded her in an undertone. "Don't forget, letters are easily intercepted, and it's not beyond the bounds of possibility that they're watching out for Hedwig. She's very distinctive."

"But…" Ginny began.

"I'm serious, Ginny," her father interrupted forcefully. "Keep to the castle, and do nothing where you could be at risk. It's not a game and you know that better than most people."

"We'll owl when we get there," Ron said, hugging his mother. "Try not to worry, Mum. We'll all look after her."

"I know you will," Mrs Weasley smiled at him through her tears. "You be good as well!"

The guard blew his whistle, and amidst plentiful hugs and kisses they clambered hastily aboard, waving frantically. The train screeched as the pressure built up inside the engine, shooting clouds of billowing steam into the air. With a gentle jolt, they staggered sideways and were off. Panting and puffing the train gathered speed, until the figures on the platform became merely tiny red-headed blurs in the distance.

"Well," Ron proclaimed, sighing heavily in relief, and collapsing into one of the seats in the compartment. "That was fun!"

"They're just worried, Ron," Hermione explained patiently, sliding the window up to close it and settling down herself. She leaned over and pulled a book out of her bag, skipping through the pages until she found her place. Harry inclined slightly sideways and read the title of the volume, _"Dark Arts: Defence and Defeat."_

"Any good?" he asked curiously.

"It's really interesting," Hermione replied earnestly. "There's a section here on different types of spells to protect from extreme Dark Arts attacks. It's got the _Fidelius Charm_ in it, and another possible one, called the _Obmolior Charm_. I think that might be worth looking into Harry. It creates a form of shield around you, but there are all sorts of varieties of this spell, and I've not got very far with it yet."

"Sounds like it might work," Harry said, feeling a bit more optimistic. "We've got to see Dumbledore when we get there tonight, so I'll ask him about it then. Thanks Hermione."

The train rattled along the lines heading north, the greyness of the towering London skyline giving way to the fertile fields, now harvested of their crops. Furrows ploughed up and down the rich brown soil seemed to comb the landscape into neat submission, sunlight shining brightly on the scene, the trees and hedges still green with summer leaves. The soft southern images blended with the more rugged variety of the north, as hedging turned into dry stone walling that fractured the landscape, snaking up and over the hills. The sky was darkening with rain clouds swirling heavily overhead, indicating an impending downpour on the heathery moors.

Ginny had dozed off, and shifted slightly against Harry, making him smile; her head, lolling on his shoulder, responded to every lurch of the train. The carriage had been unusually silent, each of them caught up in their own web of thoughts, as the engine puffed them ever closer to their goal.

"Can't be far now," Ron commented suddenly, as the rain began to pelt down on the window.

"About an hour, I think," Hermione said, glancing at her watch. "The Ministry seem to have got us all well protected."

At these words there was a sharp squeal of brakes from the scarlet steam engine, and the lights in the compartment flickered unevenly, casting an eerie glow across their alarmed faces. Harry felt his mouth go dry, as the train shuddered to a standstill and stood there panting. Ginny blinked sleepily and sat up.

"W-What's going on?" she yawned in bewilderment, pushing her hair back out of her face.

"Dunno," her brother remarked, getting to his feet and peering out of the window, up and down the track. "Last time anything like this happened was back in our third year when the…" his voice broke off and he looked at Harry.

"Dementors," Harry's voice cracked, and he reached instinctively for his wand.

"It can't be," Hermione said, attempting to sound brisk, but failing dismally. "There haven't been any reports of Dementors in this area, have there?"

"No," Ginny said quietly. "But that's not to say there aren't any." She picked up her wand from the seat and headed over to the compartment door, opening it slowly. The babble of confusion from their fellow students assaulted their ears, some of the younger students sounded as if they were in tears as the lights dimmed ominously once more.

"I'm going to go and find out," Harry said, leaping up, and squeezing past Ginny in the doorway. "I can't just sit here."

"Harry, you can't," Hermione cried. "We promised we'd stay together until we got there."

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry yelled at her frightened face. "Hermione, you can't expect me to stay here and wait like some kind of sitting duck." A pause. The train carriages creaked slightly in the wind, the rain dripping noisily on the roof.

"Stay," Ginny whispered, reaching for his hand. "If only for the reason you're the only one of us who can do a proper _Patronus_. If you go and it is Dementors…" Her words trailed away but the implication of his actions were clear. Harry sighed heavily, and came back into the compartment, closing the door firmly behind him. The dim yellow lights flickered feebly and then went out, plunging them into the purplish-blue darkness of early evening. Terrified screams echoed along the corridor, making Harry's heart begin to pound, his senses heightened. He adjusted his grip on his wand. Slow footsteps could be identified heading in their direction from the front of the train, step by step as if with a premeditated determination. Harry steeled his nerves.

"Lumos," Ron muttered, a thin beam of light appearing out of his wand. He cast it around the compartment, illuminating the whiteness of their faces, and then he twitched it to the door, as the footsteps came to a decided halt right outside. The door slid slowly open, the blackness of long garments illuminated in the wand light which rose shakily up the figure. A whimper emanated from someone behind him, and Harry lifted his wand, waiting for the wave of chilling coldness to rush over him, mind focused on what he had to do.

"I've been looking all over for you!" a familiar voice rang out of the darkness, bringing with it a shuddering sense of anti-climax and relief.

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed, dragging him into their compartment. "We… we thought you were… Oh, never mind."

"I wonder what's happening," Ron mused, rocking nervously back and forth on his heels, as the lights suddenly glimmered back into a little life.

"The wards have gone down over part of the track by Hogwarts," Neville explained, his round face eager with the news. They stared at him incredulously. "They're trying to get them back up, so they stopped us where we're safe."

"How do you know?" Harry asked quickly.

"I went up to the front to see that witch for some chocolate frogs," Neville confessed. "I was asleep earlier when she came round with the trolley. The owl arrived from the Ministry when I was there."

There was a universal sigh of relief. That would certainly make a lot of sense, especially after what they knew from Mr Weasley's involvement in this operation. Harry sank back into his seat, pulling Ginny with him, and hugged her tightly. They waited.

The train jerked forwards suddenly, with a hiss of pent up steam, and they were on their way once more, rattling along the rails to Hogwarts and safety.


	10. Back to Normality

Thanks for the reviews! As ever, JKR's toys… Back to Normality "Love is a fan club with only two fans 

_Love is walking holding paint-stained hands_

_Love is."_

"Love is": Adrian Henri 

The golden sunbeams of late summer stretched lazily into the seventh year boys' dormitory, casting dappled patches of light across the dark wooden floor and up the wall beside Harry's bed. The sound of early morning birds twittering somewhere in the vicinity of the window, penetrated Harry's drowsy brain. He blinked sleepily, and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously the full length of the bed and relishing the sensation. The sky was lightening to a clear blue, perfect for Quidditch, and he had every intention of putting his team through their paces later in the day. There was a grunting snore from Neville. Harry grinned sleepily. It was good to be back. 

His mind wandered vaguely over his conversation with Dumbledore the previous evening, after the Sorting and the feast. He had suppressed a shudder as he had entered the headmaster's circular office; his previous visit had been last March when he had been half-carried in there, bleeding profusely from the wound sliced deeply into the top of his arm, and in so much pain elsewhere he couldn't stand. The barely conscious blurred nightmare of that experience haunted him still, even though the broken bones and injured body had healed long ago. Ginny had understood last night, guiding him into a chair with gentle hands, and perching protectively on the arm beside him, to face Dumbledore together. The conversation had been tense and spoken quickly in low voices for fear of detection.

Harry shifted in bed, sitting up slightly to punch his pillows before settling down once more, to the thought of Dumbledore's bright blue eyes seeming grave, as he had listened to them steadily outlining their plans. Dumbledore had looked unwaveringly at them with the penetrating gaze Harry knew so well, appearing to be carefully weighing up the matter. At the mention of a Halloween wedding, he had got to his feet, and bent carefully over a complicated astrological model by the window, muttering various incantations, and making the coloured planets rotate on their axis. Harry had watched as he frowned over it, examining everything in microscopic detail, tilting his venerable head this way and that. Finally he had sighed heavily, and resumed his seat behind the desk, expressing anxiety about Voldemort in the interim, but agreeing with their plans, commenting that the planetary alignments were very favourable for that date.

Harry hugged his pillow tightly to him, recollecting Dumbledore's stern warnings, that everything must appear as normal, whatever sacrifices they had to make. He pulled a wry face, remembering that they had promised to keep to their own dormitories, even after the marriage, to avoid suspicion. It was not what he had imagined, but if it kept Ginny safe, then it was definitely worth doing, and besides, she had to make far more sacrifices than he did. For Ginny, even Hogsmeade visits were out of the question once the baby was on the way, and problems needed to be dealt with in the study of certain subjects. Ginny's face had been quite a picture when Dumbledore had indicated that it would be inadvisable to attempt personal transfiguration, due to possible adverse affect of her shape changing on the baby. Transfiguration was by far her favourite subject, and the one at which she excelled. His mind roamed back over the conversation and the complexities of the matter.

"So what am I meant to do?" Ginny had demanded, nettled by this unforeseen problem. "Not doing Transfiguration is hardly carrying on as normal, is it? What's Professor McGonagall going to say?"

"I would suggest we let Professor McGonagall know the truth of the matter," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "She is your Head of House, after all, and in a perfect position to keep an eye on you and your well being." His eyes twinkled gently at Ginny's outraged face. "In the meantime, to avoid suspicion, I suggest you begin a more specialised advanced course of Transfiguration in class time; a theoretical study of Animagi for this year. Next year, we will see about letting you put that into practise, as well as your N.E.W.T.s work. Would that be a reasonable compromise?"

"Yes," Ginny gasped in excitement. "That would be… it would be incredible! You'd let me do that? Really?" 

"Yes," Dumbledore had chuckled gently. "Unless Professor McGonagall has any objections, you most certainly appear have the aptitude for it. We have run advanced courses for certain students before, so it is unlikely to arouse any suspicion."

"Like Hermione in Arithmancy?" Harry asked.

"Exactly like Hermione," Dumbledore responded warmly, leaning back in his chair once more. 

"Hang on a moment," Ginny said slowly, a frown furrowing her brow. "If I can't do Transfiguration, then how am I going to hide the pregnancy from everyone?"

"I would suggest a Charm of Illusion." Dumbledore reached onto the shelf behind him for a slender volume with light-coloured leather binding, and offered it to her. "They're easy to perform, and well within your capabilities."

"So how do they work?" Harry said quickly, leaning over to see the book in Ginny's hands. "I've heard of them before, but never seen one done."

"It's almost like your invisibility cloak, Harry," Dumbledore explained, smiling gently. "This spell creates an illusion that things are much the same as they have always been, so Ginny will appear to be exactly the same as you see her now. However, like your invisibility cloak, the reality can be felt. This charm won't affect the baby at all."

"I can do that," Ginny said, firmly.  She chuckled rather unexpectedly, and added, "I just need to be careful about who I run into in a few months time, that's all."

There was a short pause, and Harry reached for Ginny's hand.

"Professor," Harry said uncertainly, looking at the genial face. "There is one other thing…" This had been bothering him since Dumbledore's visit to The Burrow at the end of July. He gripped Ginny's hand more tightly, knowing that she wouldn't like what he was about to ask, and pressed on. "You know what happened to my mum and dad?" Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and gestured for Harry to continue. "I don't want that to happen to Ginny. If… If Voldemort _does_ come after us, I want her to be able to get out of there somehow, and the baby too. I know she's not old enough, but surely some sort of exception can be made to let her Apparate?"

"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, sounding completely scandalised by the very suggestion. She twisted on the arm of the chair to face him, breathing very unsteadily. "I couldn't leave you anywhere with… with _him_. You can't ask me to do that. I won't. No way."

"Ginny, you're going to have to," Harry insisted emphatically. He wasn't prepared to argue with her on this matter. "There is no way I'm having you or the baby in that sort of danger, not knowing we can make other arrangements."

"No!" she cried, dark brown eyes gazing into his own, desperately seeking for him to relent.

"The baby, Ginny," he said with increasing emotion. "If it happens we've got to get him out of there, and I don't want our child to grow up the way I had to. If you can Apparate out of there, you've _got_ to."

"Ginny will be unable to Apparate," Dumbledore interrupted quietly, before things became even more heated. Harry stopped dead and looked at him curiously. "It's too dangerous whilst she is pregnant and afterwards, Apparition is only possible for one person, so she would be unable to take the child with her. You must have wondered why your mother didn't do that with you?"

"I… I s'pose," Harry said slowly, his brain whirling round in circles. "I still want them out of there though, not trapped... not with Voldemort."

"We always travelled by Floo Powder when I was small," Ginny offered somewhat reluctantly.

"There's no guarantee you'll be anywhere near a fireplace," Harry said despondently. "Anyway, you skin your elbows as it is. Can you imagine travelling that way with a baby in your arms?"

"Might I make a suggestion?" Dumbledore said gently. "A port key would make most sense in this particular scenario. Perhaps some object that Ginny could carry with her, to transport them back to The Burrow if she saw fit. It would be safest and quickest, and something we really should have thought of for your mother and you all those years ago, Harry." The sadness in Dumbledore's expression struck Harry forcefully, the lines creasing around the blueness of his intelligent eyes, made him seem weary as if he had seen this pain far too many times before.

Harry closed his own eyes and sighed heavily to himself, the warmth of his bed losing some of its pleasure. This was far more complicated and dangerous than even he had envisioned, but what else could they do? Like Ginny, he had every intention of making the most of these last few weeks, and that was going to start with Quidditch that very evening. Harry was proud of the fact that Gryffindor had won every single house cup they had competed in since he had arrived at the school, and his final year was going to be no different, not if he had anything to say about it. Despite the increase in threats from the Death Eaters, Harry had been relieved to discover that Quidditch practises were still permitted before curfew, under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch. Harry had booked a session immediately; after all the stresses and strains of the past few weeks, a rigorous training session leaving him on the brink of exhaustion was just what he needed.

Stepping some time later into the vastness of the Great Hall from the bright sunshine in the entrance hall, Harry cast his eyes around. The blueness of the sky, with the merest wisps of clouds drifting like smoke, lifted his mood almost at once. The warmth of the Indian summer was wonderful, seeming somehow to envelop him in a sensation of security, despite the increase in Dark activity beyond the grounds. He headed across to the Gryffindor table, seeing Ron, Hermione and Ginny already chatting over breakfast, noticing with a slight lurch of his stomach that his observations at King's Cross Station, and in the half-light of the feast, had indeed been correct. There were certainly far fewer students lining the long house tables than usual, gaps clearly evident in the rows. He settled himself down next to Ginny and helped himself to some toast before the timetables were passed down towards them. Harry quickly scanned through it and pulled a wry face at Ron.

"It's Potions first," he commented bleakly. Ron glanced down at his own copy and his face fell immediately as he saw the horrors in store.

"Herbology; that's not so bad. Care of Magical Creatures," he read.

"Wonder what Hagrid's got in store for us now?" Harry chuckled, knowing full well that Hagrid would have found some new hybrid of monster to mummy over the holidays. None of them could forget the wyvern he had acquired for them once; a very vicious dragon-like creature, who shot green jets of savage flame over thirty feet and had set most members of the class alight at one point or another. Even Hermione, who usually tried to look at things from a stoical academic point of view, had refused to go anywhere near it after it had narrowly missed her with a slash from its lethally barbed tail.

"And then…" Ron began, his face taking on an almost comical depair. He looked at Harry.

"Divination," they proclaimed, united in dismay.

Hermione snorted, and reached for another slice of toast, carefully studying her own rather complex timetable and frowning.

"I can foresee… Oh it is too terrible… Oh my poor dear boy," Ginny announced theatrically in her best misty voice, clutching tightly at Harry's arm, eyes widening to appear almost as large as Trelawney's. Ron spluttered his tea across the table.

"So what exactly can you see in your tea leaves this morning, oh wise one?" Harry teased.

"I can see that you're about to pass me that jug of orange juice," Ginny smiled, nodding down the table towards it. Harry leaned over and gave it to her, chuckling madly.

"It's amazing," he said in mock-wonder. "Your predictions are just so accurate Miss Weasley. How do you do it? Let me into your secret, I beg you!"

"Natural talent, I suppose," she giggled, pouring herself a juice. She grinned at Harry, making his heart somersault.

"Don't look now, Ginny," Hermione said suddenly in a warning undertone. "Your fan club is on their way over."

"No!" she exclaimed, twisting in her seat and seeing that it was undeniably true. Four small second year boys were heading across the hall with eager expressions. They had been somewhat smitten with Ginny since last November, when she had rescued them from a classroom where they were being terrorised by Peeves, and followed her adoringly around the place at every opportunity. Harry turned to tease her about their undying affection, just in time to see a whirl of black robes and flaming red hair disappear beneath the great wooden table.

"Er, Gin?" he chuckled, feeling her bumping against his legs.

"I'm not here," she hissed, as the boys approached the Gryffindor end of the room, and came to a halt right behind Ron and Hermione.

"Um… excuse me…" the tallest of the four boys said nervously, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes Philip?" Ron replied, sighing in exasperation. His little sister's lower school admiration society had been the bane of his life for most of last year. "What can I do for you today?"

"Well… er… we… we thought we saw your sister here before," a tiny brown-haired boy squeaked, tremoring slightly.

"Ginny?" Harry asked innocently, glancing around the hall. He suppressed a chuckle as he felt Ginny tugging angrily on his robes. "Well, I certainly don't _see_ her anywhere. Do you?"

"No," the boy responded, looking extremely downcast and riddled with disappointment.

"Did you want her for anything special?" Hermione interjected kindly, as one of the boys looked as if he were about to burst into floods of tears at the slightest provocation.

"Well, yes," the tall blonde one added, with a sense of self-importance. "It was because we're starting up a Muggle poetry club and we wondered if she'd help us, or be our patron or something." He blushed furiously and added, "We think she's smashing." Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud at the sensation of Ginny banging her forehead repeatedly against his knee in disbelief.

"I'm sure she would _love_ to help you out," Ron chuckled wickedly. "Ow!" he yelped suddenly, much to the bewilderment of the four younger boys. "Er… I banged my leg on the table. Sorry," he explained quickly, massaging the injured area.

"I think you should ask Ginny," Hermione said tactfully, trying to soothe the matter. "She can't have gone far. Have you tried the library?"

"No," the tiny brown-haired boy replied, beginning to sound excited once more. His voice grew more and more high-pitched. "Do you really think she'll be there? Thank you! Thank you! Come on you lot, let's go and find her."

They clattered across the Great Hall in a stampede of exuberance, into the bright sunshine of the foyer beyond, at which point, Harry reached under the table and hauled Ginny out. She re-emerged looking rather flustered and dishevelled and very pink in the face.

"Poor kids," Harry teased her gently. "I'd have thought that you of all people would have remembered what having a massive crush was like."

"Yeah, I do," Ginny laughed, flushing even more furiously. "How could I ever forget? But there are _four_ of them, and you were embarrassed enough with just me. Imagine having Philip, Benet, Marcus and Astor springing out at you from every corner of the castle."

"I suppose they're not half as attractive as my fan club," Harry laughed, winking at her; her eyes twinkled up at him and the romance of the moment was shattered by a vomiting noise emanating from Ron.

"Not at breakfast," he protested, scraping his chair back and getting to his feet. Hermione followed suit, rummaging under the table for her over laden school bag.

"Come on then," she urged, glancing at her watch. "Let's get down there. We can't give Snape an excuse to take points off us on the first day."

"Do we have to go?" Ron moaned, pulling a face at her. "I know you've got the Head Girl image to keep up and everything, but can't we just miss it, just this once?"

"No way!" she exclaimed. "Snape or no Snape, you're going to need these lessons to pass your N.E.W.T.s, Ron."

"So, what have you got, Gin?" Harry enquired as they approached the marble staircase that was to separate them. The high arched windows of the room drenched them in sunshine, and Ginny hair glittered and bounced energetically with a myriad of colours.

"Charms," she said cheerfully. "I've not got a bad day on the whole, to be honest."

Harry glanced around quickly to make sure they were unobserved, and then bent and muttered in her ear.

"Ginny, can you do me a copy of your timetable, please? You know, just in case."

She glanced quizzically at him and nodded thoughtfully, darting up to kiss him quickly on the cheek.

"I will," she whispered. "And can I have yours? You know," she smiled. "Just in case."

They separated, rather reluctantly, and Ginny headed slowly up the ornate beauty of the white marble staircase. Harry turned to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who were waiting patiently for him at the mouth to the cold, dark underground warren of passageways that twisted down to the dungeons. They were just about to descend and be engulfed by muffled echoes when a final noise reached their ears, making them collapse into helpless fits of laughter; a shrieking of high-pitched tones squealing, "Ginny!" and a torrent of footsteps hammering up the stairs above them.


	11. A Patronus and a Promise

_If you liked 'Carpe Diem' you may well enjoy my new James/Lily short story, 'We Walked this Way Once'._

_As ever, JKR's characters and world._

_Go on… leave a review!_ A Patronus and a Promise 

_"Till the sun grows cold,_

_And the stars are old,_

_And the leaves of the Judgement Book unfold."_

Bayard Taylor: "Bedouin Song"

Heading down the sun-streaked corridor with Ron and Hermione, to the final lesson of the day, Harry felt particularly cheerful. School had reverted life to a mundanely reassuring pace, the terrors of the holidays seeming somehow to fade amongst the gossiping portraits, and clanking suits of armour that lined the corridors. The challenges of the work expected of them that year were immense, bags sagging under the weight of heavy text books as they struggled from lesson to lesson. Homework seemed to change into a life form of its own, breeding silently when they weren't looking, multiplying simple pieces of research into horrifying monsters to be wrestled into submission each night. 

As ever, once at Hogwarts, they seemed to be oddly isolated from the real world, only Hermione's copies of the Daily Prophet and anxious letters from various members of the Weasley family informing them of the situation beyond the castle walls. Harry was surprised to discover that some days were so normal that when he glanced up at Ginny over his homework, he felt a jolt in his stomach as he suddenly remembered they were to be married in a matter of weeks. It still didn't seem real sometimes.

The corridor was cluttered with black-robed students jostling as they headed in various directions, and Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of familiar bright red hair bounding upwards towards Muggle Studies, before they turned the corner, passed through a tapestry concealed doorway, and clattered down a flight of rickety narrow stairs for their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"I still think it's weird having him teaching us," Ron grumbled to Harry as they neared the bottom of the stairs.

"I can't see why," Hermione retorted, adjusting the weight of her bag on her shoulder. "I know he used to teach Transfiguration, but don't forget, he's been involved in defending us from the Dark Arts most of his life. It tells you all about it in '_Hogwarts: A History'_. You really should read it Ron."

"And we all know that Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindlewald in 1945," Harry added, causing Ron to look at him in astonishment. "Chocolate frog collector's card," Harry admitted sheepishly.

They came to a halt in the corridor outside the classroom and leaned patiently against the wall with the rest of the class, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive. 

"I suppose it makes a lot of sense him wanting to teach us the Dark Arts stuff himself," Ron commented, dropping his bag on the floor with a thud. "After some of the teachers we've had in the past few years, and what's going on out there now, I suppose he doesn't want to take any more risks."

"Wonder what he's got for us today," Hermione said eagerly, glancing impatiently at the arched oak door, clearly wondering where the Headmaster was.

"Could be anything," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I hope we get out quickly though; I want to see Ginny for a while before Quidditch practise tonight."

"Not a chance," Ron laughed suddenly. "She's got that detention with Professor Flitwick tonight, don't you remember?"

"Now which detention is that one?" Harry groaned, mentally working his way through the various punishments Ginny had acquired since the start of term. "Was that the cushion that turned into a chicken that they couldn't catch? Or was it the parchment that spontaneously self-combusts when you try to write on it and almost burned through the desk?"

"Neither," Ron chuckled. "She's still got the parchment detention to do with McGonagall on Friday. The Flitwick one was the shrinking dust she put on his stack of books."

"It's not funny," Hermione said crossly, as Ron and Harry collapsed into fits of laughter at the mental image of tiny Professor Flitwick gradually sinking towards the floor and disappearing from view behind his desk. "Anything could have happened."

"At this rate she's going to need a booking system for her detentions," Harry shook his head in laughing exasperation. "I don't even think Fred and George managed as many as this when they were here. They'd be proud."

Silence suddenly fell across the class like dusk closing in on a winter's day, as Dumbledore drifted into view. The pure white of his flowing hair and beard glinted in the sunlight that danced through the arched windows of that landing, dark purple robes fluttering in his wake. His face relaxed into a genial smile as he twinkled at the class, regarding them through his half-moon spectacles.

"Good afternoon," he said, looking along the row of Gryffindor seventh years, who instinctively tugged robes straight and stopped slouching against the wall under his penetrating gaze. "We have quite a lesson in store. Come in, come in." A flick of his wand and the oak door creaked open revealing a darkened interior to his classroom. With some hesitation the class trooped in, eyes slowly adjusting to the gloom after the bright sunlight of the corridor beyond.

"Wonder what this is for," Ron muttered, bending to pick up the stool he had just sent crashing to the ground. "Well, at least he can't expect us to do any writing in this sort of light, and that can only be a good thing."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, appearing to sound frustrated with his lack of enthusiasm, yet through the darkness, Harry could just make out her reaching for Ron's hand, and a swift exchange of grins. He averted his gaze. There was little enough privacy at Hogwarts, something he knew all too well, and he certainly wasn't going to begrudge his two best friends a snatched moment of intimacy.

"Now then, Defence Against the Dark Arts has always been taught as simply that at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, looking from face to face in turn. "Yet now we find ourselves in a situation where that is no longer enough. You are becoming adult wizards in a world where defence is inadequate, and you will need to battle with the Dark Arts in order to survive. You all know what it is like, either to experience personal loss, or to encounter the brutality of what those involved in the Dark Arts can do." His eyes rested briefly on Harry and there was a slight inclination of his head. "What I intend to teach you this year, as my time is brief, is how to fight against the Dark Arts; to show you how it may be possible to encounter them and live."

There was an awed silence across the classroom, a hush that was rarely heard in other lessons, total attention given to the wizard before them who spoke with such authority. Even Lavender had given up fiddling with her eagle feather quill, and it lay inert in her hands.

"These lessons will not be easy," Dumbledore continued, his eyes constantly roaming their frightened faces. "And at times may even involve an element of pain, perhaps more. However, you need to know how to face what is out there, and the best way of doing that is by experience. We shall begin with something you are all familiar with: Dementors."

A murmur rippled across the classroom, and faded almost instantly to nothing. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't bring a real Dementor to class for them to practise on?

"Can anyone tell me a spell that can be used on a Dementor?"

As ever, Hermione's hand shot in the air, narrowly missing Harry's glasses in her eagerness. Dumbledore smiled.

"Miss Granger," he said, gesturing for her to speak.

"The _Patronus_," she said. "It forms a barrier to protect you from the Dementors and drives them back so they can't drive you to despair, or perform the Dementors' kiss. Each _Patronus_ is unique to the wizard that conjures it." Dumbledore nodded gravely, and his eyes travelled one pace to her right.

"Mr Potter."

Harry sat bolt upright and looked uneasily at the Headmaster.

"Yes?" he answered uncertainly, sincerely wishing he were elsewhere. The last thing he felt like doing was reliving the deaths of his parents, especially given his fears of history repeating itself with Ginny and their child.

"Perhaps you would care to demonstrate the _Patronus _for the rest of the class? Not on a real Dementor, of course, but rather an image of one, a mere fragment of the reality."

Harry nodded slowly, not really seeing how he could refuse, and got to his feet, moving towards the front of the classroom with a heavy heart. Dumbledore waved his wand, and with an expression of ferocious concentration, muttered an incantation beneath his breath. In the dimness of the light a darkly cloaked figure appeared, hazy, yet frighteningly real as it drew in a ghastly rattling breath, reducing the temperature of the room dramatically as it glided towards him. The voices of his deepest fears were there, although fainter than usual; his mother's final screams, unexpectedly blurring into those of Ginny when she had been hit by the Avada Kedavara only a year before. He couldn't listen to the memories; he knew that. He clutched his wand tightly, fixing his mind on the happiest thing he could find. Ginny. She loved him. She was to be his wife. To be with her always.

_"Expecto Patronum."_

The silvery mist shot out of his wand, forming instantly into the shape of the stag, which bent his noble head and charged the Dementor down, the illusion evaporating into thin air, and the stag returning obediently to Harry once more, acknowledging him with a bow of its great antlers, before it too disappeared.

Harry suddenly became aware of the rest of the class holding their breath with fear. A long drawn out gasp of relief came in unison as he looked up at Dumbledore.

"Very good," Dumbledore commented, smiling gently at him. "How did that compare with the real thing?"

"It was close," Harry admitted, before heading back to his seat. "Not as powerful, but apart from that it was just the same."

One by one, the class were called to attempt the spell, with varying degrees of success. Most managed a faint wisp of silvery smoke out of their wands after a few attempts, earning praise from their Headmaster, yet the real surprise came when Ron was faced with the challenge. A disconcerted look crossed his features as the Dementor glided menacingly in his direction, and Harry noticed him back up a little before standing his ground, and casting the spell with real determination. The silvery smoke that emanated from his wand took shape, heading purposefully towards the Dementor. Harry squinted for a second before he realised what it was, and glanced across at Hermione who was glued to the scene, her hand covering her mouth. The ghostly knight on horseback, reminded Harry instantly of the game they had played with Professor McGonagall's giant chess set, way back in their first year, and Ron's _Patronus_ was certainly enough to dispatch the illusion with a brisk slice of it's sword. Applause broke out across the room, and Ron looked rather stunned with his achievement.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. "Very well done, indeed. It seems that this spell is a particular strength of your family. Your sister produced a rather beautiful unicorn this morning, you'll be delighted to hear." 

Ron blushed furiously, then grinned, and resumed his seat to let Hermione try her luck.

"What do you reckon?" he muttered to Harry. "Hers will be a copy of  _'Hogwarts: A History'_?"

Harry bit back the laughter, and watched Hermione carefully. She stumbled backwards, her face contorted with fear as the Dementor approached, soundlessly mouthing the words,

"Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum. Expec…" Her panic was clearly building. Ron leapt to his feet, looking anxiously at Dumbledore, who twitched his wand slightly, making the spectre draw in the trademark rattling breath of doom. Hermione screamed. 

_"Finite Incantem."_  The figure vanished immediately at Dumbledore's command, and the darkness which had engulfed the room all lesson, steadily began to disperse, allowing daylight in. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, trembling from head to foot, shaking her head in desperation. Dumbledore spoke quietly to her, before turning to the rest of the class.

"Are you OK?" Harry heard Ron ask her, as the rest of the Gryffindors were packing their things away and leaving, having been dismissed with chocolate at the end of the lesson. Hermione shook her head, and buried her face in Ron's shoulder, shuddering with silent sobs. He hugged her tightly, and looked quizzically over at Harry, both of them completely bewildered about what had happened to her.

"It's a really difficult spell to do, Hermione," Harry said quietly. "The only reason I can do it is because of all of those lessons Lupin gave me back in the third year. And look on the bright side, at least you don't pass out every time you see a Dementor the way I used to."

"It was probably a complete fluke that I managed it," Ron added, taking his cue from Harry, and rubbing his hand across her back reassuringly. "You'll get the hang of it fast enough; you always do."

"It's not that," Hermione raised her tear stained face to look at them. She heaved a shaky sigh. "You know what I heard when I saw that Dementor?" Harry felt a chill run through him. He shivered suddenly.

"It wasn't… Not…not last March?" Harry's voice cracked. Hermione nodded, hot tears beginning to spill down her cheeks once more. 

"It was awful, Harry," she choked, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "It was like reliving the whole thing all over again. I could hear you yelling, and that awful chanting. I knew what they were going to do and I couldn't do anything to stop them. I thought… I thought you were dead and…"

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"It's hardly your fault," Hermione retorted forcefully, sounding suddenly a bit more like herself again. She gulped, and rummaged ineffectively through her robes for a handkerchief.

"Hermione," Harry said slowly, noticing that she still had a vice-like grip on his fingers. "You know what I heard this time?"

"Your mum before she died?" she guessed, her voice sounding rather wobbly. "You've said that was what you heard before."

"I did hear her," Harry admitted, and took a breath to steady himself. "But that wasn't all. I heard Ginny this time."

"Ginny?" Ron interrupted suddenly, looking rather pale. "What was she doing?"

"Screaming when Voldemort tried to kill her," Harry said, forcing back his emotions with some effort. The Dementor-like experience had made that hurt rather raw again. "Hermione, you've got to fight through that. There's nothing you can do to change past memories, but you can hang onto something really good. No matter how much they're trying to make me despair, I know Ginny loves me, and the thought of her strengthens my _Patronus_." He caught Ron's eye and felt himself flush, realising what he'd just admitted out loud.

"You know what I heard when Dumbledore set that Dementor illusion on me?" Ron said, looking thoughtfully at Harry, and running his hand nervously through his hair. "It took me back to the Hospital Wing, that night when we thought Ginny was dead. Brought all those feelings flooding back." He frowned suddenly, and glanced around the room, finding it deserted with the door closed. "Harry, it's just made me realise something," he added totally seriously. "It's made me see _why_ you're going to marry her, and I've been a complete prat about it for the past few weeks." Harry opened his mouth to object, but Ron shook his head. "Shut up for once and listen," he insisted urgently. "I know anything could happen this year. You Know Who isn't going to let you get away with this if he finds out about it, so Harry, whatever I can do to stop him, and I mean _anything_, I'll do it."

Harry stared at him, not really knowing what to say. A great weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders, as Ron's promise sunk in. Ron was with them on this now, not just as a disapproving bystander who supported them because he had to, but rather, by his own acknowledgment, because he wanted to fight this battle right along with them. Harry knew Ron well enough to understand that he would never make that sort of promise lightly, and 'anything' really did mean just that.

"Me too," Hermione whispered, squeezing his fingers one more time before finally letting Harry's hand fall. "_Whatever_ it takes."

*****

Glancing up over a teetering pile of homework books later that evening, Harry saw the portrait hole swing open and a familiar figure clamber hastily through. He smiled across at Ginny, noticing the rest of the common room hastily gathering their belongings towards them. Of late, when Ginny had been around, quills had had a tendency to behave rather strangely after they had been left unattended for any length of time, turning people into a rainbow of colours when they picked them up, exploding, or occasionally taking flight and swooping around the circular room as if they were still attached to the birds they had originated from. Harry found the whole thing extremely entertaining, as did Fred and George if their enthusiastic letters to their little sister were anything to go by.

"How did it go?" Harry grinned, as Ginny flopped into a chair beside him.

"Flitwick gives the nicest ever detentions," she chuckled, rooting around in her bag for her homework. "I've spent the past two hours learning how to do Locating Charms, and finding stuff around the place for him. I even came across a hair slide I lost in there back in the first year."

"So it was a real punishment, then?" Harry teased her, feeling the familiar quivering sensation in his stomach as he watched her hair glow with a coppery sheen in the firelight. She giggled mischievously, and glanced back up at him, eyes sparkling.

"I'm just grateful Hagrid doesn't give detentions," she confessed, biting her lip. "I took the Dancing Dust down there with me this morning."

"And?" Harry suddenly had visions of Hagrid pirouetting across the lawns in a frilly pink tutu.

"Well, the Manticore was a bit surprised by it," she spluttered. "And having more legs than you do, his tap dancing routine was a little more complicated. A very impressive performance all the same." 

"Ginny!" Harry burst out laughing. "You're going to get into real trouble if you keep this up for much longer."

"Speaking of trouble," she said, in a much lower voice as she leaned towards him. "You're going to kill me for this. You know I've got that detention with McGonagall on Friday?"

"For the Pyroclastic Parchment," Harry nodded. "Yes. What about it?"

"She stopped me on the way back up here tonight," Ginny whispered ruefully. "And she said I had to bring you to her office along with me. I think she wants to talk to us about… you know... _things._"

"Great," Harry said dismally. "So I'll just cancel Quidditch practise for a detention I haven't earned then, shall I?"

"Sorry," she looked troubled for a moment, and then her expression brightened up. She glanced around quickly, and seeing that no one was nearby, she wriggled closer to Harry and tickled his ear somewhat seductively with the warmth of her breath. "Anyway, it has the potential to be absolutely hilarious. Can you _imagine_ if McGonagall tries to talk to us about sex?" Harry felt himself grinning widely at the concept of the rather formal Head of Gryffindor House tackling such a topic. "Potter. Miss Weasley," Ginny began, mimicking Professor McGonagall's clipped and disapproving accent to perfection. "What we must look at is the practical application of method."


	12. A Detention and a Dream

_Please keep letting me know what you think…It always is much appreciated and sends me out to work with a massive grin on my face! As ever, most of this is JKRs, but the little portrait knight is all mine…_ A Detention and a Dream "Time is fleeting, 

_And our hearts, though stout and brave,_

_Still, like muffled drums are beating_

_Funeral marches to the grave."_

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: "A Psalm of Life"

****

The ever-darkening myriad of blues and indigos entangled themselves lazily as they swirled through the evening sky. Stars seemed to blink and stretch themselves awake, glowing gently above the castle and the breeze that stirred trees within the grounds. The wind whipped around the building, lightly rattling the window frames of the Gryffindor common room, and making Harry glance up from inventing his Divination homework.

Scanning the last paragraph he'd written on the parchment before him, Harry threw down his quill in exasperation, scattering splots of ink across his work. Perhaps he had been listening to Hermione a bit too much recently. Not even Trelawney was going to believe his ludicrous Tarot Card predictions for the coming week; he was extremely unlikely to starve to death following a House Elf revolt about pay in the Hogwart's kitchens. He wondered briefly if he could somehow build up the anguish a bit by describing the horrible suffering involved in more detail, but decided he'd be better off predicting a chance romantic encounter with his small, red-headed and rather attractive girlfriend.

Ron was looking equally bamboozled by his homework, and pulled a face at Harry.

"Do you understand _any_ of this?" he asked, poring over the picture cards strewn over his table. "I mean, what on earth are they supposed to mean? I can't even make stuff up from this rubbish."

"From what?" Ginny suddenly appeared beside her brother's chair and smiled apologetically over at Harry. "Harry, we're going to have to get going soon. McGonagall's expecting us at seven for this detention."

"Things just keep on getting better and better," Harry groaned, beginning to gather together his Tarot Cards. "Ginny, can you think of a horrible fate I can suffer?"

"I can't, but I'm sure McGonagall can if we don't get a move on," she chuckled. "Let's see." She spread his cards out once more and frowned heavily at them, pushing her long hair back out of her eyes. "Looks like you're in for a bit of a time of it," she grinned and switched to her misty version of Trelawney's voice. "A door you have always had open to you is about to close, leaving you with two paths to take. Beware of the one that tempts you most, and make choices with your head and not your heart. Mortal peril is near and gloved fingers wait to snatch you from safety and lure you to your doom."

"Really?" Harry gasped, as Ron sat in open-mouthed amazement at his sister.

"Nah," she giggled wickedly. "Made it up!"

"You…" Harry grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, tickling her until she begged for mercy. Tears of laughter streamed down her face, as she fought to catch her breath, wriggling away from him, and finally falling onto the floor with a very audible thump. Harry looked at her dishevelled form and burst out laughing. "Come on," he chuckled, getting up and extending a hand down to her to haul her back to her feet. "Let's go and see what McGonagall has to say."

Clambering through the portrait hole, they strolled companionably down the dimly lit and completely deserted corridors, wending their way towards Professor McGonagall's office a couple of floors below. The figures in the portraits lining the hallway took little notice of the two students as they passed by, with the single exception of one rather extraordinary gathering, which currently consisted of a Wimborne Wasps Quidditch player, a former headmaster of Hogwarts, an elderly witch in scarlet robes, and a handsome young knight who winked at Ginny as she went past. Ginny blushed and giggled. He smiled winningly, and bowed low before her, the blue plume of his helmet sweeping the ground.

"Do you _know_ him?" Harry paused and looked at her in surprise, whilst the tiny knight fixed him with a very suspicious stare.

"Yes," Ginny admitted, growing even redder. She waved at the portrait, and then tugged eagerly at Harry's hand to draw him down the stairwell. "He's called Gawain," she muttered in an undertone. "He's not as mad as Sir Cadogan, but he fancies himself a bit. I met him on detention earlier this term when I was wiping down the picture frames for Filch."

"Ah!" Harry chuckled, unable to resist the opportunity to tease. "Another member of the Ginny Weasley fan club. I can see that I'm going to have to keep you locked up in your room if you keep flirting like this with every male being within the castle walls."

"Flirting?" Ginny responded, sounding totally horrified by the suggestion. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Harry laughed. "Those poor smitten second years, and now that portrait, and that's not to mention what you do to me." She stopped abruptly, and Harry swiftly turned to see what was wrong. She remained standing on a step higher on the staircase, and looked him directly in the eye.

"And what do I do to you, exactly?" she whispered, dark brown eyes locking with his. Harry's heart pounded erratically against his ribs.

"Ginny," his throat seemed suddenly dry. He cleared it and reached out for her, his breathing seeming inexplicably uneven. "You… you're… it's…" She chuckled, her laughter seeming deeper than normal, and slid her arms around his neck.

"It's…?" she prompted, her eyes sparkling with entertainment at his lack of loquacity.

"You know exactly how I feel about you," he responded quietly, drawing her into a kiss. "I love you. I belong to you." Without a word, her fingers reached up and lightly traced the path of his scar from his hairline down his forehead, sending a shiver of delight down his spine.

"I'm already part of you," she whispered thoughtfully, becoming suddenly serious. "Joined our fates together with this charm; made a bond between us that not even Voldemort can break." He sensed her hand move against his forehead, and suddenly a shock wave of magic crashed down upon them as her scar connected with his. Their gasps intermingled. Harry instinctively tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her to him. Breath seemed almost to cease as he was willingly engulfed in the dark liquid pools of her eyes, aware only of her, and the magic suddenly surging powerfully between them.

"All that I am is yours," she breathed. "Now and always. I love you."

"Ginny," he whispered in response. "I'm yours, totally and forever; body and soul."

Lips met with loving passion, somehow seeming to complete the bond they had created so long ago. The magic ebbed to a tingle, as the contact was broken in the embrace. They sank unsteadily down on the stairs, breathlessly clinging together, and kissing desperately.

"Harry," Ginny was the first to speak, her eyes looking abnormally bright with unshed tears.

"I meant every word of it," he whispered in her ear, hugging her tightly to him. "That was incredible, Ginny. It was…" Words failed him.

"I know," she said beneath her breath. "I don't know what made me do that just then. I've never connected our scars before, and you've only done it that one time. I just felt like I needed to be…to be part of you. I can't explain it."

"You were right," he murmured softly, kissing her again. "Another week or so and we'll be married; bonded then in every possible way."

"I can't think of anything better," she beamed at him, and reached up to kiss his scar, caressing his cheek lightly in her hand.

"Potter!" A mocking voice drifted down the stairs towards them, making them turn shakily to see the speaker. "I might have guessed. Normal school rules evidently do not need to be obeyed by the famous Harry Potter, and I see you have dragged Miss Weasley along with you. I would have thought that she was getting into quite enough trouble of her own these days, without any intervention from you."

"We're not out of bounds," Harry commented, getting to his feet, slightly unsteadily, and looking up at Snape.

"It was not your location I was objecting to," Snape said silkily. "However, as both of you are prefects, I would have thought that you would have understood how to set an example of appropriate behaviour in the corridors, and that was most certainly not appropriate by any stretch of the imagination. I shall have words with Professor McGonagall about her choice of prefects. Detention for both of you on Monday night."

"But," Harry began, and felt Ginny's hand grasping his arm. He glanced over at her and she shook her head. He fell silent. With a final sneer, Snape swept past them on the stairs, and disappeared through a small doorway.

"Great," Harry muttered despondently. "Typical of him to come and spoil things. Looks like he's gone straight to McGonagall as well."

"It'll be OK," Ginny reassured him. She giggled mischievously. "I mean, what's the worst they can do? They can hardly expel us for it."

"True," Harry agreed, taking her hand in his and heading slowly towards the doorway. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

With a final exchange of glances, Harry knocked firmly on the heavy wooden door of Professor McGonagall's office, and let go of Ginny's hand.

"Come," Professor McGonagall's strict voice reverberated from within. He pushed the door open, and followed Ginny into the warmth of the tiny room. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, staring sternly at them through her dark rimmed spectacles. "You're late," she commented crisply, looking from Harry to Ginny. "And Professor Snape has just been to inform me as to _why_ you are late."

"Sorry," Ginny said quietly. "It wasn't quite what it looked like though."

"It never is," Professor McGonagall said wearily, putting down her quill. "Sit down, both of you." She gestured to a couple of chairs over by the fire, and with a sideways glance at Ginny, Harry obeyed. The room was warm and comfortable, the flickering flames from the fire and candles cast dancing shadows around the walls lined with hundreds of volumes of magic. She looked at them and shook her head, sighing heavily. "The Headmaster has informed me of your intentions this year, and there is much we need to discuss." She pursed her lips firmly, and looked rather disapproving. "This is not going to be easy to manage, and your cavorting in the corridors is not helpful. You are simply drawing attention to yourselves, and that really must be avoided at all costs. Equally that applies to your regime of practical jokes, Miss Weasley. I am sure that both staff and magical creatures will breathe a sigh of relief when you desist from your current course of behaviour."

"Professor," Harry objected, feeling his heart leap into his mouth at his daring. "Bearing in mind what Ginny's going to be giving up, you can hardly blame her for having a bit of fun before everything changes, can you?"

"The irresponsibility is understandable," Professor McGonagall commented firmly, conjuring up a steaming teapot, crockery and plate of jam tarts out of nowhere. "But not condoned. Do I make myself clear, Miss Weasley?"

"Yes," Ginny said, biting her lip. "I suppose I have been going a bit over the top recently."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall said, passing them both cups of tea. She flicked her wand casually and two lumps of sugar obediently flew into her own cup. "Now what I really need to speak to you both about is… is what we might term the practical application of method."

Harry had just taken a drink when he heard these words, and choked, spraying tea everywhere. Surely McGonagall wasn't really going to talk to them about _that_. Was she? He didn't dare look at Ginny. There was a barely audible gurgle of suppressed laughter by his right ear. Fixing his eyes firmly on the hearthrug seemed to be a good solution. Maybe if he simply pretended that he wasn't there, it wouldn't be so bad. 

"Do be careful, Potter," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "And look at me when I'm talking to you." Harry reluctantly raised his eyes, to be met with the sight of Ginny, hidden behind a curtain of hair, shaking with silent mirth. "Firstly, we must consider how things are to be achieved." She picked up the plate and offered it to Ginny. "Tart?" 

Ginny let out a snort of laughter, and hastily covered it in a coughing fit. Harry felt his cheeks flame, as he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, wishing with all his heart they were back in the common room. 

Professor McGonagall paused and placed the plate back on the table, frowning heavily at her two charges.

"The method," she commented in her most formal and disapproving tone, "is perfectly straightforward…"

She was interrupted by a loud smashing noise, as Harry's hand shook and his teacup toppled out of his grasp, shattering on the hearth. Professor McGonagall tutted beneath her breath, and swiftly repaired the damaged china.

"As I was saying," she continued, pursing her lips until they went white and moving the cup well out of Harry's reach. "It's very straightforward, even though neither of you have attempted this particular variation before. It's quite simply a matter of setting things up properly to begin with and ensuring that your mind is entirely focused each time you do it, and it will need to be repeated at regular intervals." Harry cringed back in his chair, and heard a quaver of an irrepressible giggle beginning right beside him. He kicked Ginny swiftly on the ankle. "Of course the entire process is made easier by Miss Weasley's talent in this area," Professor McGonagall commented briskly, making Harry's eyes widen. Ginny's laughter could be held back no longer; it exploded and rang clearly through the room. Harry buried his head in his hands, glowing with humiliation like the embers in the fire.

"To be perfectly frank, I would have expected you both to take things a little more seriously," she said scathingly. "This is hardly a laughing matter. It could cost you your lives if things go wrong. It's a very simple spell you need to perform to conceal this pregnancy, but unless you can take a more mature attitude, I fail to see how you are going to learn how to perform it this evening."

"Spell?" Harry found his voice, and tried to regain some semblance of composure.

"Yes. The Charm of Illusion," Professor McGonagall responded tartly. "What did you think I was talking about? Hippogriff talon clipping?"

Harry blushed furiously, and stared at the coals glowing in the hearth, the redness burnt through the dark surroundings suddenly reminding him of Voldemort's eyes fixed mercilessly on Ginny. Harry's stomach gave a violent lurch, and he swung back to face his teacher, instantly sober from the intoxicating fits of laughter.

"Show us," he said urgently. "Please. You're right, we can't take any chances with this."

"Very well," Professor McGonagall said gravely, getting to her feet. "We will work on getting the illusion set up this evening, and I will teach you both how to maintain it. Beyond that we need to discuss regular medical check-ups, Miss Weasley, and some necessary domestic arrangements for the remainder of this year."

"We said we'd stay in our dormitories," Ginny said quietly. "So as not to arouse suspicion. We know we can't be together like we are married, or not yet anyway."

"Obviously you will need some time alone," Professor McGonagall said, her stern face relaxing into a suppressed smile. "I do, however, presume that you have no need of me to go through the, shall we say, _finer_ details of the procreative process."

"No," Harry and Ginny asserted vehemently, with a swift exchange of horrified glances.

*****

Halloween grew ever closer, and Harry found his mind whirling with everything that was going on. Since their detention with Professor McGonagall, they'd been diligently practising the Charm of Illusion to ensure that they could use it flawlessly well before they actually needed to. Ginny had been highly entertained when she had laughingly shoved one of Professor Flitwick's summoning cushions down the front of her robes, and watched it vanish from view, her silhouette remaining entirely unchanged to anyone who looked. 

"Totally cool," she'd giggled, patting the thin air above her stomach. "Imagine all the chocolate I could eat with this charm, and not have to worry about it."

 Anticipation was building up throughout the castle as the day approached, so Harry and Ginny's excited behaviour was nothing out of the ordinary. As ever, Halloween was to be a day of festive celebration, the older students desperate to stretch their wings in the freedom of Hogsmeade for the first time since term began. Combined with the feast, which was invariably held the same evening, it was highly unlikely that anyone was going to miss them too much, if at all. All the same, an excuse had been formulated to explain their absence to those who were most likely to notice.

"His Godfather's really ill," he heard Ginny explaining earnestly to Alana O'Donnell, who shared a dormitory with her. "Harry's so worried about him, I mean, he's all the family he's got left now. Dumbledore's been lovely about it. He's given Harry permission to travel through and see him, as long as he's back sometime on Sunday, and I can go as well, just to make sure that Harry's OK."

There were sympathetic nods and murmurs, and to their total relief, everyone accepted their story without question. After all, similar arrangements had been made for Parvati and Padma last term, after a particularly vicious Death Eater attack had left their younger brother so badly maimed that they feared he would not survive. It was not an entirely fabricated excuse, either. Hedwig had arrived one morning with the welcome news that Sirius had returned to England, but he had been hurt in his struggles against the Dark Forces. Harry had seen him for a few fleeting moments in Dumbledore's office one evening, when Sirius' head had appeared amidst the flames in the fireplace, desperate to speak with him. Harry had been alarmed at how ill Sirius looked, his face worn into deep fissures of fatigue, and his hair matted and filthy as it had been upon his escape from Azkaban several years before. 

Their conversation had been brief, but reassuring. Ginny had shyly greeted his Godfather for the first time, half-hiding behind her wave of hair, and clutching at Harry's hand. Sirius' face cracked into a grin at the sight of this, teasing them mercilessly about being mere babes themselves, incapable of wiping their own noses. He chuckled, clearly approving wholeheartedly of Harry's choice of bride when she giggled, proclaimed him to be as bad as her brothers and unceremoniously told him just where he could stick that particular idea. Before he'd disappeared from the fire, Sirius had left him with a surprisingly heartfelt comment.

"Take care and be alert at all times, Harry. Take no chances with anything. Just stay safe. Ginny and the baby too. Especially them. I couldn't bear to see the same thing happen to you, not like your mum and dad. Not again." 

Looking over at Ginny across the common room later that evening, Harry knew that he was doing the right thing; every element of his being told him that, but after he had gone to bed, a little demon of nagging doubt took up residence in his brain tormenting him mercilessly. They were too young, still at school; Voldemort could still kill them all whenever he chose; they were simply following in his parents footsteps, making the same choices, and inevitably would reach the same end. Harry tossed and turned restlessly, the doubt eating away at him; was this really such a good idea? With less than two days to go, he had to be certain. 

He sat bolt upright, and rubbed his face in his hands, reaching for his glasses and the framed photograph, which resided on his bedside cabinet. Casting some light on it from his wand, he was soothed to see the image before him exuding happiness the way it always had. Ginny was giggling impishly in his ear at the Yule Ball almost two years before, stretching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek for the very first time. His own expression in the photograph invariably made him laugh; it was one of stunned incredulity, overwhelmed with delight that Ginny could actually love him. He touched her animated face gently with his finger, watching the laughter and the stars twinkling deep within the russet-red of her hair. He knew. There was no turning back, and he would never want to.

Placing the photograph safely back in its place, Harry contentedly shuffled back under the covers, relaxing in the comforting darkness of the familiar tower room, gently lulled to sleep by the rhythmic snoring emanating from the direction of Neville's bed. 

_"Take them all," a familiar high-pitched voice commanded coldly. "Ensure nothing remains. Do not dare fail me this time, or the price you pay will be higher than you have ever imagined."_

_A pulsing pain. A surreal sensation of being carried on eagles' wings, wind ruffling through his hair, soothing the ache burning in his scar. Swooping lower, he could make out a green glow through the darkness, ominously lifting itself higher above the tangle of houses in the city, until it was standing out starkly against the blackness of the sky. The Dark Mark, snake protruding from the mouth of the skull as if licking its lips, relishing the glory of torture and destruction. Screams of terror could be heard across the city, not just one person this time, but a multitude of voices, crashing down upon him from all directions, deafening him with their pleas._

_He dropped lower still, bringing into view a suburban home, where hooded figures illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlamps in the inky night. A small family were struggling fiercely to escape from what had once been their home, and was now their jail. They struggled against the invisible bonds of the Constrictum Spell, as the cloaked Death Eaters withdrew. A single muttered incantation carried clearly through the crisp night air._

_"Incendio."_

_The sickening feeling of helplessness, watching as the house burned. Inhuman cries of anguish rent the air. Above all this, a cruel and merciless laugh rang out, clearly elated by the suffering before him._

_"Choose," Voldemort said. And the world fell silent._

Harry leapt out of bed before he was even awake, stumbling blindly through the darkness and half-falling down the stairs in his haste. He crashed into the common room, with no coherent thought other than desperation, and collided with something soft barrelling equally quickly in the opposite direction. It thudded heavily to the ground with a familiar squeak.

"Ginny," he gasped, kneeling quickly to make sure she wasn't hurt. She looked up at him from where she was sprawled, and immediately stretched out her hand to touch his still throbbing scar.

"The dream," she whispered, her eyes filled with horror. "Harry, it wasn't a nightmare, was it?"

"No," he said quietly, helping her to her feet, and wrapping his arms securely around her night-gowned form. He rocked her gently, trying somehow to make everything all right. The admission had to come. "It was real." 

"Those poor people," she said, voice quavering with emotion. "Oh, Harry!"

Wordlessly, they curled up together in an armchair, staring into the flames of the common room fire and waiting through an eternity until morning broke its terrible news.


	13. Two Hands, One Heart

Two Hands, One Heart 

"My true-love hath my heart and I have his, By just exchange one for the other given" 

~ Sir Philip Sidney 

"Harry?" Ron's voice broke through his reverie at the breakfast table, making him jump and shake himself back into the present. "Are you sure you're OK?" 

"Yeah," Harry muttered shortly, feeling worse than ever. He buried his head back in his hands. His pre-wedding jitters seemed to be escalating, worsened by the fact that Hermione had insisted that it was bad luck to see the bride before the actual wedding ceremony itself. Despite the fact that this was a Muggle tradition rather than a wizarding one, Hermione was not going to be budged on the matter. Consequently, a certain red-headed figure who would have reassured him, was closeted away somewhere in the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower, leaving Harry feeling like a Niffler was plucking at his tautly strung nerves jangling out a tune. 

"Toast?" Ron offered, cheerfully grinning at his best friend. "Well, you need something to go with the butter you're wearing on your robes." 

Harry groaned and removed his elbow from the butter dish, savagely scrubbing off the worst of the mess with his napkin. Thankfully it was still very early for breakfast, and the tables were so sparsely scattered, that no one else appeared to have noticed. 

He toyed with a solitary piece of toast on his plate, feeling even sicker at the merest thought of eating anything. His stomach surged and churned unpleasantly, and he eventually threw the slice of toast back down, untouched. He shifted restlessly in his chair. This was even worse than the way he felt before a vital Quidditch match. Ginny was the person he loved with all his heart, he knew that with an unshakeable certainty, but all the same little elements of doubt began to attack like poisoned darts, making him flinch more with each successive hit. What if she changed her mind? What if it all got too much for her and she didn't show up? What if she just didn't love him enough to be his wife? 

His hand shook as he reached out to pour himself some pumpkin juice, and the jug slid beyond his grasp and toppled sideways with a resounding clang. The liquid splashed everywhere, spreading out into a small lake, the deep orange colour of which reminded Harry of some of the shades in Ginny's hair, and he stared at it in fascination. It had looked just like that, spread out over the sofa in the firelight last night. Just like that. He warmed at the memory. Ron laughed. 

"I've not seen you do that for ages," he chuckled, beginning to mop up the mess. "The last time you were so accident prone was when you'd gone all mushy over my little sister and didn't dare ask her out. What are you going to do next? Lose the ability to string a sentence together?" 

"Probably," Harry grinned half-heartedly. He picked up his toast and began to shred it absentmindedly onto his plate. 

"She'll be there," Ron muttered as emphatically as he could without danger of being overheard. "You mean everything to her, and you know that. Stop worrying." 

Harry smiled at Ron's oddly perceptive comment. 

"Easier said than done," he sighed. He looked anxiously across at Ron as another doubt stabbed at him and leant forward. "You have still got those rings somewhere safe, haven't you?" 

"Somewhere," Ron said vaguely, patting his pockets with a puzzled expression. "I just wish I could remember where exactly." 

The look on Harry's face must have spoken volumes, as Ron collapsed into fits of laughter. 

Before Harry had a chance to protest, a whooshing fluttering of snowy-white wings distracted him as Hedwig swooped gracefully down to him, nipping his fingers affectionately in her beak. Harry frowned as he unravelled the parchment from her leg, wondering who on earth could have written to him using Hedwig. As far as he'd been aware his owl had spent the past few days in the owlery following her return from Sirius. He glanced at the note and suddenly everything became clear. Ginny's surprisingly neat and precise script adorned the page, and he felt his heart leap in sheer relief. 

"Dear Harry, 

I honestly think Hermione's missed her vocation in life; she should have been a guard in Azkaban or something. I've been trying to get past her to see you this morning, but I've not managed it... yet! Luckily Hedwig turned up at the window, so at least I know you'll get this. I hope you're OK about all of this, and not too nervous, and more than anything I hope that brother of mine is behaving himself and not winding you up even more. Poke him in the eyes from me if he tries. See you at two this afternoon if I can't work out any other way to break through this charm on the door. There's got to be something... 

Love you, now and always. 

Ginny." 

Ron looked quizzically across the table at Harry's chuckle. Harry shook his head and read through the note a second time imagining what Ginny must be up to. For a fleeting second he almost felt sorry for Hermione. Almost. 

"It's from Ginny," he explained at last, grinning happily. "She sounds fine." 

"What did you expect?" Ron laughed at him. "Hermione's hardly going to feed her to the nearest dragon is she? Harry, will you stop worrying!" Ron scraped his chair backwards and got to his feet. "Well, if you're quite finished reducing your toast to confetti and you're not going to eat anything else, let's go and play a bit of Quidditch. It'll probably take your mind off things." 

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, abandoning the shreds of his breakfast and heading outside to release some of his pent-up nervous energy on a Bludger. 

***** 

Just after lunch, Harry stood at the window of the Gryffindor common room watching the bulk of the school hurrying out towards Hogsmeade in little clumps of warm black cloaks, their excited voices floating upwards in a babble of indistinguishable chatter. The knot of nerves was beginning to tighten unpleasantly in his stomach once more, and he turned sharply, with the intention of heading to his dormitory, but stopped short, almost colliding with Ginny's fan club. Harry groaned inwardly. This day was just getting better and better. He surveyed their eager faces surrounding him and realised that there was no way out. 

"Er... so how's the poetry going?" Harry hazarded wildly, wondering how he could ease surreptitiously past them and sprint for the dormitory stairs. 

"Really good," the smallest of the four boys piped up, grinning enthusiastically from ear to ear. "Ginny's even been reading her favourite ones to us." 

"That's great, Casper," Harry said, trying to sound convincingly interested, whilst his mind was engaged on working out an escape route. 

"Astor," the boy corrected firmly, staring hard at Harry. 

Harry fleetingly wondered how on earth Ginny coped with these irritating kids as well as she did. She was actually incredibly tolerant of them for the most part, however much they pestered her, and he'd actually spotted her earlier in the week reading patiently to them at the far end of the common room. He reflected on how different they were. After all, when he had had a fan club... He froze, suddenly realising for the first time how much he must have hurt her when they were younger. Ginny's love had always been given to him unconditionally, almost from their very first meeting, and it had taken him almost five years to realise that he felt exactly the same way. 

"Harry," Philip said irresolutely, interrupting Harry's musings. "We... um... we were wondering if Ginny's all right. We haven't seen her today." 

"She's fine," Harry replied, sincerely hoping that she hadn't done anything too drastic to herself in her attempts to get past Hermione's magical barrier charm. "She's probably just getting her stuff sorted out before we head over to see my Godfather this afternoon. I promise, I'll bring her back for you tomorrow," he added as an afterthought, seeing identical expressions of disappointment cross all four faces. He frowned heavily at them. "Why don't you have a game of gobstones or something?" he asked desperately in a flash of inspiration. "With most people in Hogsmeade, you've got acres of space here for a change." 

"Haven't got any," Marcus replied dully. "And we're sick of exploding snap." 

"Tell you what," Harry said, seizing hold of this sliver of an opportunity with all of his might. "I've got a set upstairs you can borrow for a while. Give me a chance to get my things packed and I'll bring them back down with me. How does that sound?" 

There were fervent nods from all four boys, and Harry gratefully slid through their clutches to the strains of a high-pitched voice squeaking enthusiastically to his friend, 

"Maybe that's why Ginny likes him? He's got gobstones and a Firebolt too." 

Harry choked back the fits of laughter as he bounded up the welcome darkness of the dormitory stairs, wondering if the day could possibly become more surreal than it was already. He slammed the door firmly behind him, leaning against it for a second and closing his eyes. His heart thudded uneasily in his chest and he breathed deeply, thankful to be alone for a while. Opening his eyes again, he glanced around the room and pushed his glasses back up his nose. To keep his nerves in check, he knew he had to keep busy, so he strode purposefully to his trunk to hunt out the gobstones. 

Lifting the lid, he had to laugh aloud. Somehow, and heaven only knew how, Ginny had managed to escape from Hermione for long enough to steal his freshly laundered socks. 

"Well impressed," he chuckled to himself, rummaging beneath some old copies of Which Broomstick towards the bottom of his trunk. He hadn't played gobstones in ages, but he knew they were down there somewhere, probably with some of Uncle Vernon's old socks that even Ginny wouldn't steal. He burrowed deeper, past old letters from Ron and Hermione. There was all sorts of rubbish buried there, Harry reflected as he excavated past an ostentatiously autographed copy of Gilderoy Lockhart's `Magical Me'. Harry decided there and then that he needed to have a good clear out when they got back. Finally his fingers closed around the soft canvas sack containing the gobstones, and he hauled them out, almost jumping out of his skin as something began singing shrilly. 

A slow grin spread widely across his face, as he realised what it was. He reached into his trunk once more and removed the infamous Get Well card that Ginny had once made, and blushed so profusely when she had eventually dared to take it up to the hospital wing for him. He sat, propping his back up against the foot of his bed and opened the card, reading the message within and listening to the hideous noise with the happiest of hearts. 

His mind was filled with images of Ginny; the shy brown eyes peering around her bedroom door when he had first visited The Burrow; her chin set in determination when he had cast the Imperius Curse on her; her irrepressible giggles in McGonagall's office the other night; the look in her eyes when Voldemort had cast the Avada Kedavara. Harry shuddered, blotting out the image that still cast a cold shadow of fear over his heart. He quickly sought out a happier memory. Last night. He smiled, remembering the feel of her against him, her kisses, her scent. A snatched moment of pure contentment in her arms, backs turned against a world where chaos reigned. 

He wondered if she was really disappointed that her parents wouldn't be there this afternoon. He had seen the hurt in the darkness of her eyes, but he understood their reasoning. With the violence and savagery shown during the Death Eater attack on Bristol, it would be foolish to draw any attention towards Ginny by this unusual journey to Hogwarts. As much as he wanted everything to be perfect for her, her parents were right, and they all knew it. Harry remembered lifting her chin gently in his hand, watching the firelight ripple her hair as he gazed at her, offering a compromise of a second wedding ceremony in the summer, after their child had been born. The danger would be lessened then, and she could have the Muggle-style wedding she had always wanted, with friends and family, when they no longer had to hide their commitment to each other from the world. 

The door creaked open. 

"Are you ready?" Ron's nervous voice broke the stillness. 

***** 

Harry's anxiety was surging to a crescendo as he paused by the familiar statue at the foot of Dumbledore's tower. He leaned against it for support feeling rather ill, his clammy hand pushing his hair back off his forehead, as he shakily gave the password of Dumbledore's latest Muggle confectionary discovery. 

"Pontefract cakes." 

The door opened smoothly, and Harry glanced quickly over at Ron, his heart beating unsteadily and his throat sandpaper dry. He wiped his palms hastily on his robes. It seemed that the fear was infectious, even Ron was looking paler than usual at the realisation of what was about to happen. Harry swallowed nervously as they stepped onto the staircase, which rotated smoothly until they reached the very apex of the tower. Dumbledore greeted them warmly, and beckoned them into his office, which appeared completely differently to the way Harry had ever seen it before. Despite the pale October sunlight, which filtered in through windows elsewhere in the castle, the circular office was somehow cast in velvety darkness, illuminated only by a few candles floating gently in mid-air. The furnishings themselves, such as Dumbledore's great desk and the soft chairs, had been spirited away elsewhere, and the ornately patterned crimson rug had been rolled aside, revealing the polished shine of the wooden flooring beneath. 

A soft knock sounded at the door, making Harry's heart leap within his chest, pounding with anticipation. 

"Ginny," he breathed, catching sight of the familiar flowing coppery hair in the doorway. She stood on the threshold, looking very pale and uncertain as she surveyed the room. He pushed his way past Ron to envelop her in a hug. The familiar sensation of Ginny within his embrace, the warmth of her cheek pressed against his and her wayward hair tickling his nose, steadied his turbulent emotions. He looked into her dark brown eyes, smiling delightedly at her and gently caressing her cheek. "Ginny," he whispered again, barely able to believe she was there. 

"Horribly nerve-wracking, isn't it?" she commented dryly, pulling a face and hugging him back. "Hermione's been driving me mad all morning with this rubbish about not being able to see you." 

Harry chuckled and glanced across the room to Hermione, seeing her engrossed in conversation with Ron. 

"She looks as if she's survived," he teased. "You've not made her grow three heads or anything." 

"Not yet," Ginny countered, her eyes twinkling wickedly in anticipation. 

"Are you both ready?" Dumbledore's voice interrupted gently. Harry gazed at Ginny, and felt her shaking slightly beneath his touch. She smiled up at him in such a way that he could only smile back, simply loving her. A world of unspoken understanding passed between them before Harry nodded slightly. 

"We're ready," she said clearly, shaking her hair back of her face and turning to face Dumbledore. Harry felt the ache of her disappearing from his arms, and clutched at her hand. She squeezed his fingers reassuringly. 

"Very well," Dumbledore said quietly, gesturing to two chalk circles drawn beside each other on the floor. "If you would take your places, then we can begin." 

Footsteps resonated through the stillness of the room, until they stood, each in their own sphere, separated only by a few feet of air. Harry tore his eyes from Ginny and fixed them on Dumbledore, a sort of nervous, yet excited, energy consuming him. The venerable wizard was cast into clearer relief by the shimmering candlelight that drifted instantly in his direction when he began a slowly muttered incantation beneath his breath. The candlelight flickered and Dumbledore waved his wand over the two figures before him, plunging the room into darkness. Hermione gasped loudly, but before Harry even had a chance to react, new light began to ignite and sparkle into life once more; not candles this time, but rather a more ethereal vision. Stars, planets and moons swayed into clearer focus before him, glinting against the deep ebony air. The vision surrounded him completely, rather like a cylinder, and Harry stared at it in awe, admiring the planets and constellations before him. With a sudden jolt he recognised the particular formation. Surely it couldn't be. Could it? After Dumbledore's revelation in the summer, he had rather sheepishly worked out his birth chart properly, and the plotting he had done on paper looked remarkably similar to the astrological vision he was currently engulfed by. Harry frowned and mentally plotted the chat anew, stunned to discover that it was exactly the same. This was his destiny. 

He glanced across at Ginny, to find her staring upwards, entirely entranced by the beauty of the scene. Her planets showed a different pattern to that of his own, and Harry finally understood. Slowly the two planetary cylinders began to move towards each other, drawing their occupants together within them. Harry held his breath as they touched, then merged, easing together to form a single, larger, circle. Ginny reached for his hands and held them tightly in hers, never ceasing to gaze at the wonder that formed a barrier between them and the outside world. They rotated slowly, marvelling, as past, present and future blended as one. 

"Marriage is never something to be taken lightly," Dumbledore's gentle tones floated through the magic. "As you can see around you, it is the joining of two lives and two destinies in one; magically binding for all eternity." A shared smile greeted these words, their hands clutching tightly still. "When you are ready, please declare your intentions," Dumbledore added, his quiet voice carrying easily through the thick silence of the room. 

Harry looked into Ginny's face, the warmth of love for her filling his veins and lightening his heart with happiness. The nervousness seemed to have vanished, and her dark eyes glistened adoringly in the starlight, never leaving his. 

"Harry," her voice was low, yet filled with emotion. "You have given me so much; I owe my very life to you. I am yours, by wizarding bond of honour, and by choice. I love you with all that I am, with heart and soul. My future is yours; good times and bad I want to share with you, now and always as your wife." 

"Ginny," Harry choked through the lump thickening in his throat. He'd known how she'd felt for so long, but to hear it articulated like that tore at him. "What I've done to deserve someone as wonderful as you in my life is something I'll never understand, but I am so grateful that you love me. You've shared so much with me, laughter, tears, and you've even let me have my socks back from time to time." He grinned at her and she giggled quietly. "I am yours always, whatever the future brings. I belong to you. I love you." 

No sooner had Harry stopped speaking, than the stars and planets that had surrounded them faded from view, leaving them alone. Candles slowly flickered and gleamed once more, casting the room with soft light. 

"The rings?" Dumbledore asked, his bright blue eyes twinkling reassuringly through the half-light. There was the sound of frantic rummaging, and some hurried whispering from behind them. A thunk and an agonised yelp followed. 

"Honestly!" they heard Hermione's exasperated tones very distinctly. Harry glanced over at Ginny and then looked away swiftly, both fighting back laughter. Finally Ron located the rings and offered them to Dumbledore, grinning rather sheepishly across at his sister and best friend. 

Dumbledore carefully placed the golden rings on the great heavy tome he held in his hands, Ginny's ring residing, safely protected, within the confines of Harry's own. With a flourish of his wand, the book levitated in mid air between them, this symbol of their commitment clear for all to see. Soft strains of music echoed gently through the darkness of the room, and three glowing orbs of coloured light drifted gently towards them. They hovered beside the book, and as Harry squinted slightly at them, he was amazed to see that the yellowish shimmering sphere had shape. He could see a tiny crowned female form, adorned in robes of flowing golden gossamer, a sprite, fluttering through the air on her fragile wings. She stretched her hand over the rings, magic visibly falling from her fingers in glittering fragments of dust. Her voice flowed like a song, soft and melodious, warming those who heard her through to their very core. 

"Prosperity and happiness I offer you, 

Togetherness all the days of your lives. 

May each day that passes bring joy anew 

And increasing love for husband and wife." 

She drifted from the fore, to be replaced by a glow of greener hue, a sprite of nature robed in vine leaves. She followed suit, and cast her blessing upon them. 

"Season changes into season, and so 

The love you share has changed and grown. 

Blessings of children soon shall follow 

A joyous harvest from what was sown." 

The final sprite shimmered into view, and cast a breathtaking rainbow, arching high above their rings, and illuminating the book in the full spectrum of vibrant shades, rather like sunlight shining through stained glass. The little lilac creature, smiled sweetly at them before beginning her song. 

"Rainbow moments shimmer softly 

Glowing light, a bow of colour, 

Gives life richness through air so lofty, 

Hope I give you, never dolour." 

Harry suddenly realised that he had been holding his breath as the tiny sprites chanted a final blessing on them and quite literally vanished into the ether like a breath of wind. The book drifted purposefully in their direction, hovering at elbow height as they made their vows with Dumbledore's prompting. Harry gazed deeply into Ginny's eyes. There was no world beyond her, as he promised to protect her and gave himself to her. She smiled softly, repeating her vows and clearly meaning every word she said. She was his. 

He picked up the smaller of the two rings from the book, and gently slid it onto her finger, happiness welling up inside him. Ginny carried out the same task, smiling up at him, knowing their bond was complete at last. They were husband and wife. 

"Thou art my life, my love, my heart," she whispered, quoting from the poem that meant so much to them. Harry touched her cheek, and finished off this strangely appropriate verse. 

"And hast command of every part, 

To live and die for thee." 

Silence filled the room. Harry smiled in stunned amazement at her, feeling the happiness almost bursting out of him. Their lips met, and they were lost in the world of each other and their embrace. 

They finally broke apart, to discover Dumbledore smiling benevolently at them, and daylight beginning to filter through the darkness that had surrounded them. Harry hugged Ginny tightly to him, still scarcely able to believe what had just happened. 

"Many congratulations," Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at them. He nodded slowly. "Every happiness to you both. Now if you will excuse me for a few moments, I must send a couple of things through to Sirius to act as a decoy, in case the story of your absence leaks out." He smiled at them and headed towards the doorway, before pausing and turning. "I understand that some things are traditional on occasions such as this," he chuckled, and waved his wand, producing a rather elaborate wedding cake, and a bottle of champagne. "Some celebration is certainly in order, and I hope you will take advantage of this opportunity to create a lot of noise and mess." 

The door swung shut behind him, and a sobbing Hermione flung herself at Harry and Ginny, kissing them both. 

"Hermione!" Harry protested. 

"Sorry," she sniffled, burying her face back in her handkerchief. "That was lovely though. I've been reading all about wizarding weddings, and I know they're unique to the couple involved, but I never expected it to be quite like that. That was... that was..." 

"Wonderful," Ron finished off for her. He grinned at them both, and hugged his little sister so hard that she began to tease him by making choking noises. "I can't believe you're actually married, Gin," he said, sounding completely incredulous. "My baby sister, married? It's amazing. Somebody actually wanted you." 

"Not just anyone," Ginny chuckled. "Harry." She grinned up at him, biting her lip as if she could barely believe it herself. 

"It's great," Ron admitted, clasping Harry's arm and grinning widely. "I suppose if I've got to develop yet another brother, at least it's you." 

"Noise and mess?" Ginny giggled, unwrapping the foil from the neck of the bottle, her eyes glinting mischievously as she aimed the cork at her brother. "I think we can do that." 

***** 

Harry glanced across the chessboard at Ginny, and felt the quivering nervousness in his stomach intensify. Her face was half hidden in shadow by the masses of russet and copper that tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned over to examine the pieces. He knew every single freckle scattered across her nose even better than he knew his Firebolt, and watched the furrowed concentration clearly visible across her brow. She gave a little exclamation of annoyance, and swept her hair back from her face, twisting it up easily and skewering it in place at the nape of her neck with her wand. Little tendrils began to escape immediately, shining mischievously in the glow of the blazing fire in the grate. He reached forwards, drawn to them so irresistibly, and touched them, his fingers brushing the warmth of her neck beneath. Brown eyes widened, and raised to meet his own, blazing with love for him. He swallowed awkwardly, and let his hand fall. 

"It's really odd without everyone else around, isn't it?" he said, trying to fill the void of silence that surrounded them before real panic set in. 

"Well, it would be a little tricky, not to mention embarrassing, doing this with everyone else here," she laughed, sitting back comfortably in her chair. "I think Ron would have heart failure for a start." 

The nerves Harry had been suffering from for most of the evening, surged upwards most unpleasantly, and he leapt to his feet, catching the chessboard with his leg and scattering the pieces all over the rug. There were yells of protest from the chessmen as helmets were bounced off the hearth, and the white queen landed head first in a nearby plant pot. Ignoring the devastation he had just caused to an entire civilisation, Harry dashed across to the window and opened it, leaning heavily on the sill and drinking in the crisp night air of autumn. 

Trembling slightly, he rested his forehead against the coolness of the pane and looked out. He had never been in this part of the castle before, and there had been a spectacular view across the grounds to the Forbidden Forest earlier in the day. Now only black silhouettes stood out in the inky blueness of the cloudless sky, stars glittering through the darkness. A pair of arms slid comfortingly around his waist, and he felt Ginny's body press against his own, her head leaning in between his shoulder blades. He mentally shook himself, and turned to hug her tightly. 

"I know I'd have won anyway," she teased, "but that's no reason to go galloping off in the middle of a game." 

"Sorry," he said, feeling his cheeks begin to glow. "I-I just needed a bit of fresh air." 

"What is it?" she whispered, stroking a soothing hand across the tenseness of his back. "Harry?" 

"Nothing really," he said apologetically. "It's not you or anything. I never thought it'd be quite like this though. I suppose I always had these stupid visions of sweeping you off your feet on the spur of the moment. This is all so premeditated, it's sort of making me a bit... er... well, nervous really." 

"I'd have never guessed," she chuckled, reaching up to kiss him. 

"So how come you're so calm about the whole thing?" he demanded curiously. 

"You think this is calm?" she said incredulously. "Harry, I almost ran away from everything earlier." 

"Did you?" he asked in amazement. 

"Too true," she smiled and wrinkled her nose at him. "Hermione had to physically stop me this morning when I was halfway out the portrait hole, and pointed out just what I was running away from." 

"And what was that?" he grinned down at her. 

"You," she said softly, her brown eyes looking quite shyly up at him, reminding him suddenly of how she used to be around him when she was younger. "And this." She caught his left hand in hers, and Harry saw the unfamiliar gold band on his third finger glinting softly in the candlelight. He interlaced their fingers, feeling the two rings rubbing gently together, and smiled. 

"They'll have to be hidden when we go back," he said rather regretfully, lifting her hand and kissing it. 

"But we still have tonight," she said in a low tone that made Harry's heart begin to beat erratically. 

*************** 

A/N: Thanks to those who have been giving me ideas about wizarding weddings, and I feel bad about going my own sweet way on this, with no hand fasting and such. An element of inspiration was drawn from The Masque scene in Shakespeare's "The Tempest", and the poem Harry and Ginny quoted is Robert Herrick's "To Anthea, who may command him anything". 

If you're not happy about where I've stopped this chapter, it's continued as a separate story in the restricted section of Gryffindor Tower, and called [1]An Interlude. I've got no intention of actually having that in as part of the main story, but it is the wedding night if you're interested. Thanks as always for the reviews ~ you've been keeping me going. 

References 

1. http://www.gryffindortower.net/Library/restricted/interlude.htm 


	14. The Morning After

Here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it! I'm aiming to get the next few chapters up across this week, to bring this version of the story up-to-date. So expect to be up to Ch 19 pretty quickly!

As ever, I'm playing in JKR's world…

****

**The Morning After**

****

_"Talking in bed ought to be easiest…    
An emblem of two people being honest."_

~ Philip Larkin: "Talking in Bed"

Harry contentedly stirred in his sleep, a haze of semi-conscious happiness surrounded him as he lay cocooned in the cosiness of his bed. He shifted slightly, suddenly aware of a warm weight entwined in his arms, breath brushing lightly across his chest. His eyes flickered open, to the blur of red beside him. Ginny. He blinked sleepily, his brain sluggishly moving, cog-by-cog. All the same, he was fairly certain that there had been no nightmare to warrant her stealing into his dormitory in the dead of night as she so often did. 

Recollections flitted through his drowsy mind, of Dumbledore's darkened room, Ginny's nervous face illuminated by magical starlight, her dark eyes staring lovingly into his. He smiled dreamily and hugged her closer to him, not wanting to wake her just yet. He froze suddenly as his fingers encountered the warmth of bare skin rather than her familiar crisp cotton nightdress. His eyes snapped fully open, breathing suddenly shallow. They hadn't… had they? He frowned, noticing for the first time that their surroundings were most definitely not those of Gryffindor Tower, and his brain suddenly hurtled into fast forward. The sprites, the wedding, the chess game, and… and… oh, they _had._

He felt the heat rushing into his cheeks as various images burned into his brain. He glanced down at the slumbering form beside him, fearfully wondering what she would think when she woke. She shuffled slightly towards him in her sleep, and made the little sighing, snuffling noise that always made him smile. He watched her breathing, the steady evenness of the sound lulling him into a sense of security. 

The shafts of golden early morning sunlight gleamed in through the high window, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the room. A small smile spread across her lips, fascinating Harry and making him yearn to kiss her. Wondering what she was dreaming of, he smoothed her hair back from her face, lifting it gently and letting it cascade onto the pillow beside her, encapsulating sparkling life in the soft rays of sun. Crimson, russet, copper, ochre, titian, a host of reds beyond name, intermingled as they tumbled silently onto the white linen. His… wife.

Unable to resist it any longer, Harry kissed her lightly on her nose, settling back to simply enjoy holding her whilst she slept. Long lashes flickered, quivering slightly, before sleepy dark brown eyes emerged beneath the lids, smiling up at him.

"Harry," she murmured quietly, stretching through a half-stifled yawn. "What time's it? I've fallen asleep again, haven't I?"

"Not exactly," Harry said, blushing furiously. "We're not… er… we're not in Gryffindor Tower."

Her eyes widened quickly, and she propped herself up on an elbow to survey the room. She bit her lip and turned back to Harry, her cheeks flushing as she clutched the covers to her. Harry instantly felt a sweeping sensation of guilt; perhaps they had rushed into this too quickly for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny interrupted him with a mischievous giggle.

"Don't you dare apologise!" she insisted cheerfully, making Harry do a double take. It appeared that she had developed the ability to read his mind. "Yesterday was absolutely perfect. _All_ of it."

"It was?" he queried uncertainly. "Gin, I… I… want everything to be right for you. You're not just saying that, are you?"

"Don't be silly," she smiled, cuddling back into him. "Harry, we're married. Tell me honestly, is there anything you'd like more?"

"No," he admitted, kissing her and searching the loving brown eyes opposite his own. He knew it then. This was everything as it should be. He laughed suddenly, and added, "But all the same, this was a bit of a shock when I woke up this morning."

"Just a bit," she giggled, squirming beneath his touch as he tickled her ribs. "Stop it," she giggled, slapping him affectionately. She ran a hand thoughtfully across his shoulder, and glanced up at him with a devilish glint in her eye. "So how long do you reckon it'll take before we stop blushing about it all_?_" she asked.

"About eighty years or so," he grinned. "You know, it's nice not having you galloping off in a flat panic first thing in the morning. I could get used to this."

"I wish we could," she sighed, suddenly sounding rather wistful. Her fingers ran lightly over the scarring at the top of his arm and her face became suddenly serious. "Voldemort's got a lot to answer for. All I want to do is be with you, and even that seems to be asking too much some days."

"Ginny," he said, feeling an aching pang inside him. "It will work out. It _has _to. One day we'll get a shot at a normal life together, where we can do anything we want and not be checking over our shoulders every few seconds, waiting for the axe to fall. I don't care what I have to do; we _will _have a future, you and me. I want that more than anything. Just you… and our baby." He paused for a second as the idea suddenly sank in. "Gin," he said, even more urgently. "You don't think…?"

"No, I try not to think," she teased, tousling his hair. "Anyway, Mum said that it could take months, so I don't think we need to worry about the baby just yet." She kissed him gently and sat up again, surveying the room before she wriggled swiftly out of bed, leaving Harry feeling quite bereft.

"Gin?" Harry reached his arm out for her again.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ravenous," she smiled, stretching across to kiss him. With that somewhat unromantic thought clearly uppermost in her mind, she slid into Harry's discarded shirt, the cotton garment falling halfway to her knees. She carefully rolled the cuffs back, and shook her hair free from the neck, looking to all intents and purposes as if she belonged in it.

"Ginny!" he protested, laughing at her actions. "You can't steal _all_ my clothes."

"Well, I can hardly wear my dress before I repair it, can I?" she chuckled, picking up the offending item and holding it out to him. Harry blushed. "You don't know the strength of your own magic," she teased, padding softly over to the door and opening it a fraction, to allow her to peer into the little lobby beyond. She gave a triumphant yell and disappeared, re-emerging a few seconds later with a steaming breakfast tray and a wide grin. She kicked the door shut with her heel.

"Success!" she crowed, carrying the tray over to him. "Are you OK with crumbs in the bed, or would you prefer a picnic by the fire?"

"Here's fine," Harry said, reaching for his glasses and cautiously hauling himself into a sitting position, so that nothing was spilled. "You want any tea?" Ginny nodded, and settled herself comfortably on the quilt, facing him.

Hot buttered toast was consumed in vast quantities as they chattered about everything, ranging from the magical splendour of their marriage, to the forthcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin in a couple of weeks. At length the conversation turned to what could be done to gain revenge on Ron and Hermione for the torture they'd put them through.

"Tempting as it is to charm my brother's shoes into hopping around like frogs, the embarrassment factor's simply not enough," Ginny giggled, setting her teacup down on the bedside table. "I want to see the pair of them squirm."

"I agree totally, but we'll have to be careful not to get caught," Harry chuckled. "Just remember, we've still got that detention with Snape tomorrow night, and as much as I love spending time with you, I can think of things other than disembowelling slugs that I'd prefer to be doing."

"Oh yes?" She raised a seductive eyebrow.

"Yes," he murmured in a lower voice, pulling her closer to him and kissing her deeply. "We've got to go back later this afternoon, and it'd be a shame not to make the most of the time we've got left together, wouldn't it?"

"Most definitely," she replied, smiling at him with her eyes twinkling in impish mischief. "I'll just go and set the chess board up then, shall I?"

*****

The long corridor was lit by flickering candlelight, portraits beginning to nod sleepily in their frames along the oak panelled walls. Two figures stood silently, hand in hand, unable to turn back, and unwilling to move forward. Harry regarded the faded red carpet beneath his feet, and prodded the woven border restlessly with his toe before finally turning to Ginny.

"We've got to," he said despondently, squeezing her hand.

"I know," she whispered. "I know we_ have _to, but I don't _want_ to. Everything's been just so wonderful, I can't bear it to end. "

"Me neither," he agreed gloomily. "But what else can we do? We've just got to take what we can for now." Harry felt as if he were being torn in two as he felt her fling herself at him. He held her closely, trying to soothe her, raining gentle kisses on her forehead. This was so unfair. How were they meant to carry on as nothing had happened when all he wanted to do was yell from the rooftops that she was his wife; tell the world that she loved him? He lifted her chin, and gazed steadily into her tumultuous eyes. "I promise it's not going to be for long. You just keep that ring safe, and I'll put it back on your finger as soon as we can."

"You too," she nodded, sounding slightly shaky. She threw her hair back over her shoulders and took a steadying breath. "Right," she said firmly. "Let's get this over with."

"Just one thing first," Harry smiled, hugging her tightly once more and burying his head in her hair. "I love you Mrs Potter."

"Oh Harry," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. 

"Potter, Miss Weasley." Professor McGonagall's authoritative tones resounded along the corridor, making them spring guiltily apart. Ginny furiously brushed her hand across her face, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. "You really must desist from these public displays of affection in the corridors. As prefects, I expect better of you both."

"Sorry, Professor" Harry said, bracing himself for the lecture which was bound to follow.

"Just be thankful it wasn't Professor Snape who caught you this time," Professor McGonagall continued, with a flicker of a smile crossing her stern features. "There is nothing further I propose to do about the matter, on this occasion at least. However, bearing in mind your absence this weekend, I would suggest that it may be prudent to complete your homework this evening before incurring further wrath from the teaching staff."

"I suppose so," Ginny said quietly, collecting her bag from the floor before turning back to face the portrait of the Fat Lady in the pink dress. "Harry?"

"Coming," Harry responded, moving to join her.

"Good to have you back," Professor McGonagall commented with a flash of real warmth. She nodded approvingly at the pair of them and turned to head down the small passageway to her own rooms.

Harry watched the figure disappear into the distance and raised his eyebrows at Ginny, who burst into giggles.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" a voice quavered impatiently. "Password?"

"Cassiopeia," Harry responded automatically, and with a sigh of exasperation, the Fat Lady swung open, revealing the cosiness of the Common Room beyond.

Scrambling through the portrait hole after Ginny, Harry straightened up, surveying the scene around them. It was relatively quiet for that time on a Sunday evening, and clusters of students sat scratching away at various pieces of homework, or laughing in groups over various games and conversations. A niggling fear in the back of his mind expected the room to fall silent at their appearance, hundreds of eyes staring at them, knowing every last detail of their weekend. However, as it was, no one took any notice of them, and they slunk quickly into an empty corner, well away from the general hub of activity.

"Back to normal, then," Ginny smiled wistfully, pulling her homework out of her bag.

"Looks like it," Harry agreed, groaning aloud when he saw what he had to do. "Divination," he explained, the single word conveying the deepest abyss of horror.

"I'll stick with History of Magic," she giggled, unscrewing the top from her ink bottle, and dipping her quill in. "The 1492 Elvish Code of Conduct was an unmitigated failure. Discuss."

"Bearing in mind they almost wiped out the entire Ministry of Magic in protest, I think that is a pretty fair comment," Harry laughed, rummaging for his own quill.

"Hello!" A sudden voice made Harry almost leap out of his skin. He swung round to see Ron leaning over the back of his chair grinning mischievously down at the pair of them. "I didn't know you were back. Good weekend, was it?"

"You could say that," Harry responded, flushing instantly, and burying his face in his textbook in the vain hope that Ron would go away. Ron, however, sprawled comfortably across the sofa and beamed at them in such a way that Harry squirmed.

"So," Ron said, drawing out the single syllable as long as possible. "You found where you were going all right? No getting lost and having to ask for directions?" He sniggered, and Harry felt his face beginning to glow.

"Leave it, Ron," Ginny hissed angrily at her brother.

"Leave what?" Ron said innocently, looking around him with an air of exaggerated surprise. "I'm just enquiring after the welfare of my little sister. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"Thank you for your concern," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "I am delighted to inform you that everything went perfectly according to plan, unlike some people I could mention." Harry looked up sharply, just in time to see Ron beginning to turn a deep shade of crimson. "And unless you want me to tell you all the gory details you'd really rather not hear," she continued in a low tone, "I suggest you drop that subject, right now, Ron Weasley."

"I-I can see you're busy," Ron stuttered after a few seconds silence. He regarded Ginny, then Harry and reddened further. "I think I'd better go."

"Stay," Harry grinned at him, and threw his copy of _"Tarot and The Future"_ at his best friend. "Just stop being a prat about it, and help me make up some predictions for Trelawney. I'll never get this homework done otherwise."

"Fair enough," Ron laughed a little before opening the volume, the furious colour staining his cheeks beginning to subside. "How about being gored to death by a stray unicorn? Lots of blood and agony in that one."

"Perfect," said Harry, picking up his quill.

*****

Dashing down the hallway from Charms the following day, it seemed like the events of the weekend had been merely a fantasy; a blissful mirage that evaporated as soon as he tried to touch it. Every now and then he drifted off into happy daydreams of Ginny, a particularly pleasant distraction from the dry and pointless historical facts delivered by Professor Binns. Once his heart had been lifted by a fleeting glimpse of her heading in the opposite direction with her classmates for Care of Magical Creatures, muffled against the bitter cold of the November morning, but other than that it had been the same old monotonous drudge of lessons.

He charged down the marble staircase, taking the steps three at a time in a desperate attempt to reach the Potions dungeon before Snape started his lesson. Professor Flitwick had kept him behind with the kindest of intentions, asking after Sirius, and fondly recollecting the days when he had taught him. It had been easier in the days before Sirius had been pardoned, Harry reflected, as he swung round the newel post at the foot of the stairs and skidded sideways across the marble floor, slipping slightly as he scrambled to the door leading down to the dungeons. His pounding footsteps echoed down the narrow stone passageways, sconces flickering in the draught as he passed by. A final twisting corner and he reached the classroom, noting with a sinking heart that the heavy wooden door was already firmly closed. Panting for breath, Harry grasped the heavy iron ring and twisted it. The lock clicked open, and he attempted to creep unobtrusively inside.

"So good of you to join us, Potter," the cold and scornful tones of Professor Snape greeted him. "Are you sure it's not too much trouble?"

"I'm sorry, but…" Harry began, but Snape cut him off.

"There's always some excuse, isn't there, Potter. Sit down. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Harry slunk furiously into his seat beside Hermione, who shot him a sympathetic smile.

"We tried to tell him," she whispered beneath her breath as Snape continued the introduction to his lesson on healing potions. Harry nodded, still inwardly seething at the treatment that had just been meted out to him in typical Snape-like fashion, yet despite his fury, he found himself strangely interested in the lesson for once. Potions like this could be very useful indeed, especially given the current environment beyond the castle walls. He listened intently and began to take notes.

The remainder of the lesson passed with predictable malice, but Harry was relieved that at least it was purely a theory lesson. Anything meaning that Snape didn't have to blast one of his limbs away so they could see if they had brewed their potions correctly, could only be a bonus. 

"See you at dinner," Ron commiserated, as he stuffed his things into his bag at the end of the lesson. "Hope detention's not too horrible."

"He's only doing it now so we can't have Quidditch practise tonight," Harry grumbled bitterly about the early hour of his confinement. "I had the pitch booked and everything. Anything to give Slytherin the advantage."

"It's only one night, and you're miles better than they are," Hermione said bracingly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She grinned at him and added, "Besides, you were asking for it, snogging Ginny in the middle of the main stairwell."

Harry blushed, and watched them all troop out of the dungeon, nudges and sniggers emanating from the Slytherins in the group, leaving him alone in stony silence with Snape.

"Here, Potter," Snape said brusquely, handing him a large basin of scarab beetles. "These need to be crushed into the finest powder, otherwise they are entirely useless. None of your usual slip-shod cutting of corners, or you will do them all again."

Harry silently grasped a couple of the shiny bronze beetles, and threw them into his mortar, crushing them vigorously with the pestle, pulverising them, and grinding them to dust as if they were Snape himself. His hatred for the Potions Master knew no bounds, and Snape regarded Harry in much the same way. Several portraits around the walls watched in sympathy, and Snape tapped his long fingers impatiently on the desk, a secretive smile playing across his lips as he regarded the door.

At length a knock sounded, and the door flew open to admit a flurry of vibrantly red hair and black robes.

"Sorry," Ginny gasped, trying to catch her breath. "I had to run all the way down here from Herbology."

"Miss Weasley," Snape said, gesturing to a bench on the opposite side of the dungeon. "Do take a seat."

Ginny did as she was bid, sneaking a glance to where Harry was working and exchanging a grin. Harry felt some of his anger evaporate. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. He knew from experience that Snape rarely supervised them during detention, preferring to retreat to his office until the various chores were complete. This could actually be some pleasant time for them, away from the bustle of the rest of the school. He emptied the powder almost cheerfully into an empty basin, and began the process again with fresh beetles.

"Dragons' heart," Snape said, placing the shining, slimy crimson muscle in front of Ginny. "To be diced into exactly equal sizes, no more than half an inch in any direction."

Ginny nodded, and picked up the knife on the board, immediately settling down to work her way through the punishment. Snape watched her for a few moments, and then turned to go. He paused on the threshold to his little office, his mouth twisted into a smile. "Just one final thing," he said, with an air of triumph. "These two potions ingredients do not react well when they come into contact, and unless you wish to be on the receiving end of some rather unpleasant and painful injuries I would advise you to stay well away from each other." With a small chuckle he disappeared into his office, leaving Harry and Ginny staring at each other in horror.

"Great," Harry broke the silence at last. "Just what we needed."

"It's one well planned detention," Ginny admitted. "I'm impressed."

"Impressed?" Harry echoed incredulously.

"Yes," she giggled. "He's actually found a way to stop us snogging, and I never thought that would be possible" Harry laughed, and shook his head at her. "Come on, Harry. Let's just get this done and get back. Once we've washed all the traces of the ingredients off it won't be a problem."

"Yeah, I s'pose so," he agreed reluctantly, crushing the scarab beetles with a venomous loathing once more.

All was silent for some time, as they focused on completing their tasks, until a clanking and crashing noise made Harry look up. The picture that hung on the wall beside him was that of a luxurious eighteenth salon usually containing two gossiping society witches. On this particular occasion the scene was devoid of life with the single exception of a shining silvery figure lying prostrate on the ornate rug. Harry watched in amusement as the tiny knight struggled back to his feet amidst noises that sounded exactly like Mrs Weasley emptying her saucepan cupboard. He swept his hair back from his flushed face and surveyed the dungeon before him, smiling winningly as he laid eyes on Ginny.

"My lady," he said reverently, with a flourishing bow so low that he had difficulty in straightening out. His armour creaked and groaned as he struggled upright again. Ginny giggled, and moved over to see him.

"Gawain," she smiled. "What on earth are you doing all the way down here?"

"Where danger lurks, there I shall follow," the tiny knight proclaimed seriously. He knelt awkwardly amidst further clanking. "My service I offer you; my life is at your behest."

"Hang on a minute," Harry protested, flinging down his pestle. "If there's any protecting to be done around here, I want to do it. Get your sword and clear off and go and save someone else."

"Harry!" Ginny protested. 

"Command me, fair maiden," the knight said, squeaking as he leaned forward on his bended knee. He flashed a white smile at her. "A labour of love, a quest, I beg of you."

"Gawain," Ginny said, with a worried glance at Harry. "It's really nice of you, but…"

"But she doesn't want you hanging around her," Harry interrupted, his mood worsening by the minute.

"I beseech you," Gawain pleaded, shooting a withering glance at Harry. "Let me win your hand with brave and valiant deeds. I will dare to vanquish even dragons for you."

"Try Voldemort," Harry growled.

"I'm so sorry, Gawain," she said softly. "I can't. I love Harry."

The diminutive knight squeaked and screeched to his feet, clutching his plumed helmet helplessly in his hand. He looked at her through saddened wallflower-blue eyes.

"This scurvy knave," he muttered grimly.

"Yes, this scurvy knave," she smiled adoringly at Harry and making him suddenly feel rather guilty. "Thank you for the offer, Gawain, but I am sure there are ladies more deserving of your attentions around the castle." She reached her hand over to clasp Harry's but stopped dead, suddenly remembering the problem with the potions ingredients. She giggled slightly and blew him a kiss, before returning to her seat.

"Come on to Ginny again like that, and I'll find some turpentine and a rag. Do I make myself clear?" Harry hissed, determined to settle the matter once and for all. 

The tiny knight gulped and sank down onto the chaise longue with a defeated crashing noise, and propped his chin on his hands, watching the rest of their detention with the soulful melancholy of unrequited love.


	15. Evening News

So glad you're enjoying the story – please keep letting me know what you think. Next chapter will be up on Monday! As ever, these characters and world are JKR's not mine! Alas! Evening News 

"This day, whate'er the Fates decree,  
Shall still be kept with joy by me."

~ Jonathan Swift: "Stella's Birthday"

The weeks seemed to fly past with unusual swiftness, and before Harry realised where he was, the anticipation was building within the castle for the Christmas holidays. Everyone appeared to be going home this year, almost without exception, seizing the opportunity to be with loved ones, fearful that this might be their last meeting. Somewhat unusually, Ginny had wanted to go back to The Burrow until New Year, but after a lot of persuasion she had finally listened to Ron and Harry and agreed to keep to their original plan. If nothing else, they all knew that it was far safer remaining within the confines of Hogwarts, especially given the recent Death Eater activity, and Harry was absolutely determined that she shouldn't be at risk.

As it transpired, only the four of them were remaining in Gryffindor Tower for Christmas, so Harry had nervously sought out Professor McGonagall, and to his total astonishment was actually granted permission to move into Ginny's dormitory for the ten day holiday period. He had to admit, he was really looking forward to spending some time alone with her. This had been notoriously difficult to do of late, due to the halls thronging with overly excitable students, and various Christmas festivities. The latest craze for exploding holly erupted from every darkened corner, and as Harry discovered, even the most innocent of broom cupboards seemed to conceal unexpected surprises. 

"Finished," Ron yelled triumphantly, interrupting Harry's thoughts as he measured his length of parchment. "Half an inch longer than it should be as well," he pointed out proudly to Hermione.

"Hmm," she said, looking at it rather cynically. "The fact that your handwriting is twice as big at the end as it was at the beginning doesn't count for anything?"

"Pure co-incidence," he laughed. "Come on, Hermione, it's the last essay of the term. We're finished tomorrow, and we're going to have some fun. There's absolutely no way you're spending all holiday in that library."

"As if I would," she smiled. "But I do have _some_ research I want to do."

"Don't spoil it," he groaned. "I thought you'd listened to me there, for once. Things were perfect, just for a split second: no library and no Yule Ball this year either."

"We can't have a party with You Know Who going round and killing all those people," Hermione said rather crossly, rolling up her own parchment for Professor Binns. "Show some sensitivity, Ron."

"Just be grateful I'm not trampling on your toes this year," he grinned. "Whatever the reason. You were hobbling round for three whole days after the dance last year."

"How did you cope when you had to teach him to dance in the first place, Gin?" Harry asked curiously.

"My baby sister has toes of steel," Ron chuckled. "Mind you, she'd need them. If you think I'm bad, you want to see Percy on the dance floor."

Harry grinned, and twisted round so he could see Ginny's expression; his heart melted as he caught sight of her. She was curled up tightly in the large squashy armchair, her head snuggled into a cushion, and was entirely oblivious to the world around her as she slept. She looked rather pale in the candlelight, and Harry could make out the traces of dark shadows beneath her eyes belying a distinct lack of sleep. He frowned slightly, but her soft regular breathing reassured him, as did the sight of the blue book clutched tightly in her hand.

"Has she fallen asleep _again_?" Ron demanded, glancing over to see what was wrong.

"Stimulating reading material," Harry chuckled, nodding at her copy of Moody's new book, _"Constant Vigilance."_

"You can't be surprised," Hermione looked up from her own book. "Oh come on, Harry! You've been keeping her up late most nights, and she's been getting up at the crack of dawn to finish her studying." She lowered her voice. "You know she's trying to get ahead with some of the work for next year."

"I suppose so," Harry responded guiltily, glancing at the sleeping figure beside him. "I didn't know about the early morning studying, though."

"I think I'd better get her up to bed," Hermione said practically, putting her own book down on the table. "Harry, can you wake her up for me please?"

Harry did as he was bid, leaning over and shaking Ginny lightly. She muttered incoherently in her sleep and swatted at him irritably with her hand, before his gentle persistence paid off. She blinked foggily, and sat upright, pushing her vibrantly red hair back out of her eyes.

"Ginny?" he whispered anxiously.

"Wh-what?" she yawned, rubbing at her face.

"You fell asleep again," he explained, smiling at her bewildered expression. "Are you sure you're OK?"

"I'm fine," she snapped out of her reverie with a jerk. She frowned heavily at him. "Don't fuss, Harry."

"I'm just concerned," he said softly. "I didn't know you'd been overdoing it with your work. There's no need for you to be pushing yourself so hard; nothing's happening yet, anyway."

"I said I'm fine," her tones rose emotionally. "I've not been overdoing it. I haven't." Harry placed his hand calmingly on hers and she shook it off. "I haven't," she yelled, sounding almost hysterical.

"Ginny," he protested, acutely aware of various faces turning to stare in their direction. "It's all right."

"It's not all right," she cried. "You just don't understand, do you? I've got to get through all this stuff. I _have_ to."

"Get some sleep," he advised, glancing across at Hermione for some help. "You might feel better for it in the morning."

"Harry," she yelled. "You could at least _pretend_ to be supportive. Have you any idea how difficult all this is?"

"Shush!" he said desperately, terrified she'd say something she shouldn't, yet his concern only served to inflame her. The molten chocolate of her eyes erupted into white-hot fury.

"Don't you _dare_ 'shush' me, Harry Potter," she spat. "You don't know how easy you've got it most of the time. Imagine a life where the worst you've got to worry about is Quidditch practise being cut short."

"That's not fair and you know it," he snapped back. Hurt green eyes met furious brown ones and the word 'Voldemort' hovered unspoken between them. Tears flooded quickly to the surface, and a shuddering sob fought its way from Ginny's lips. She blindly pushed past him, and fled up the dormitory stairs, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

"That went well," Ron commented blithely, as the common room lapsed back into its babble of conversation. "A bit more practise and you'll be yelling back at her like a genuine Weasley."

"Shut up," Harry growled, feeling worse than ever. He snatched up Ginny's book and glared at the pages, only realising after a few minutes that Hermione was smiling at him because he was holding it upside-down.

*****

The holidays had begun in earnest, the hallways and classrooms echoing eerily as the handful of remaining students rattled around. Peeves was in his element, singing all the rude versions of Christmas carols he knew, and then making a few more up, cackling loudly at the top of his voice.

_While shepherds eyed their frocks by night_

_The maidens sang a song_

_Give me a man who's brave in might_

_And at least ten in-…_

Harry didn't wait to hear the rest. Blushing furiously he charged through the tapestry-concealed doorway, and up to the common room, to spend some sorely needed time with his wife.

A couple of hours later, the Gryffindor common room was utterly deserted apart from the two of them, lying flat on their backs on the hearthrug in front of the crackling log fire. Harry glanced mischievously over at Ginny, seeing her face and hair reflected in the warm glow of the blaze, shadow and light dancing enticingly across her very being. Her eyes were filled with laughter, and focused intently on the objects overhead. Harry's grin widened, and he released the spell, causing a small shower of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans to cascade down on her face, amidst shrieks of laughter.

"I got one!" she screamed, revealing a red one between her teeth. She bit down slightly tentatively, and giggled. "Strawberry." Rolling over, and kissing him, she grinned wickedly. "Let's see how you get on," she giggled, wriggling back down next to him again. 

_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

At her command, somewhere in the region of twenty multi-coloured beans rose into the air and hovered above his head, swaying impishly this way and that as she instructed them, plunging suddenly towards him before rising tantalisingly again when he opened his mouth to catch them. Suddenly a deluge of beans hurtled towards him, pelting and bouncing off his face as he fought off the laughter and snatched at them. His success was short-lived. He choked briefly and swallowed, grimacing as he did so.

"Stewed cabbage." He burst out laughing.

Ginny collapsed into his arms, completely helpless with the giggles that shook her frame. Harry smoothed her whirlwind of hair back from her face, laughing as much at her reaction as he was at the game itself.

"It's wonderful when it's just the two of us like this, isn't it?" he chuckled. Her laughter faded, and her dark eyes seemed to soften somehow as she gazed up into his face, cupping his cheek gently in her hand.

"The three of us, you mean?" she whispered.

"Three?" Harry echoed, glancing around the room to see if Ron or Hermione had somehow intruded. Then, slowly, Ginny's meaning sank in and his jaw dropped. He looked at her in disbelief. "You… you…?" he stammered, feeling a tingle shiver through his bones. He ran a shaking hand through his already untidy hair, and swallowed awkwardly. "You're…" he tried again, but his voice failed him. "Pregnant?" 

The world held its breath. She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. He stretched his hand to the flatness of her stomach, feeling as if he were suddenly filled with helium – almost dizzy and distinctly separate from the real world.

"Baby?" he croaked at last, beginning to formulate questions very unsteadily. "In here? Really?"

"No, I thought I'd keep him in my trunk upstairs," she teased, almost sounding like her normal self, but he could feel her trembling. "It's a weird sensation, knowing that it's actually happening, isn't it?"

"Our baby?" he repeated, trying desperately to grasp the reality of the situation.

"Yes," she whispered, looking anxiously at him. "You're not mad, are you?"

"Ginny!" he cried, gathering her into his arms and hugging her tightly. "How could I _ever_ be mad about something like this? It's amazing. Incredible. It's… How on earth did it happen? When did you find out?"

"Well, I think you know _how_ it happened. Or maybe we should ask McGonagall to explain it to you?" she giggled softly, kissing him. Her dark brown eyes searched his, suddenly serious once more. "Are you sure you don't mind? It's all happened so fast, I'm not entirely sure what I think about it. I only found out yesterday when I went to see Madam Pomfrey, and she said we're about seven weeks into this. Seven weeks." She bit her lip. "Looks like I was wrong when I said it would take months. I think this little one must have made an appearance on one of our first times together. No question about it: this child has definitely not got your procrastination habit."

"That's reassuring," Harry chuckled, settling back against the sofa and cradling her in his arms. A sensation of stunned, terrified delight filled him. This was real, not just a vision they'd talked about. She was carrying his child. _Their_ child. He instinctively tightened his grip on her, and she smiled up at him.

"Don't worry," she said quietly. "I promise everything's fine. Madam Pomfrey checked us both out pretty thoroughly yesterday, and gave me a lecture about being sensible." She pulled at face of disgust at him, and continued, "I don't seem to have morning sickness or anything, so as long as we keep up the Charm of Illusion, no one's going to know. It won't really start to show for another month or two anyway, so that gives us a while to make sure it's working smoothly."

"It's a lot to take in," Harry said, letting out a long, slow breath. "Seven weeks. Wow."

"I really didn't know before yesterday," she said, looking up at him, tears suddenly beginning to well in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you then, but I couldn't get you on your own and then I lost my temper with you. I'm so sorry, Harry. I never meant to yell at you like that. I think it all got a bit much somehow and…and…"

"Ginny," he exclaimed, kissing her gently. "You think I care about that? Shout at me all you want, if it makes you feel better. I mean, it's my fault all this is happening anyway."

"And how did you work that out?" she sniffled, rummaging through her robes for a tissue. "I seem to recall being a perfectly willing participant in the practical application of method."

"You were," he chuckled at the familiar phrase. "But if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be having this baby for another few years. It's not much of a destiny to offer you in marriage, is it?"

"It's _our_ destiny now, not just yours," she whispered, a stray tear stealing unbidden down her cheek. He caught it, and smoothed it tenderly away with this thumb. "We'll share this together, just like we always do."

"I'll do anything, you know I will, but this is far harder for you," Harry mused. "I don't know much about pregnancy at all, but you're going to have to carry this little one around with you, and that can't be easy."

"I'll manage," she said, sounding absolutely determined. Her face broke into a watery grin. "Anyway, it's hardly a problem right now. You know this kid of ours is currently about this big?" She leaned over and tossed an Every Flavour Bean at him, watching as he balanced it in his palm. Harry stared incredulously at the little speckled apricot bean: so tiny; so very vulnerable. Then an awful thought occurred to him.

"Ginny, we haven't hurt it when we've… um… y'know?" he asked anxiously, still flushing at the very thought.

"No," she shook her head emphatically. "I asked about that because I wasn't sure either, but Madam Pomfrey said we should just carry on as normal." She giggled mischievously and added, "I didn't tell her about the broom cupboards, though."

"I should think not!" he laughed, sliding his hand lovingly into her hair, enjoying the smooth silkiness of it twisting around his fingers. "What else did she tell you? Come on, tell me the worst."

"Oh, you're in for a great time of it," she grinned, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Just imagine, you've got seven more months of me having mood swings, bursting into floods of tears for no apparent reason, having insane cravings at all hours of the day and night."

"You're kidding?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in amazement.

"And that's not to mention the birth itself," she commented airily, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Did you know that…"

"Don't," Harry interrupted swiftly, closing his eyes. "Don't Gin." He shook his head trying to block out the thought.

"People get through it," she said reassuringly, kissing his cheek. "Look at Mum. If it was _that_ bad she wouldn't have had seven of us, would she? I can't pretend I'm looking forward to it, but Mum said you soon forget the pain. We'll be all right. All three of us."

Silence fell between them, the only noise emanated from the fire cracking and spitting in the grate. He held her in his arms, head burrowed in beside her, breathing in her scent, and absorbing their future. His hand slid curiously round her, fingers spreading protectively over her stomach.

"It's really happening," he whispered at last.

"Oh Harry," she sighed, smoothing her hand over the back of his. "We've just got to keep our baby safe and make sure Voldemort can't do anything to him like he's tried to do to us. If he ever found out that there was the danger of Truitinae Bonitas repeating itself…" Her voice trailed away.

"He won't," Harry insisted at once, a sensation of utmost determination flooding through him. "Ginny, we've got to be so careful. Once the baby's here, we can use the protection spells Dumbledore was talking about, and you shouldn't be in danger then either. It's just these next few months…"

"You'll never guess when this baby's actually due." He shook his head, still thinking too hard to work out the maths. "How does 31st July sound?" she smiled.

"You're joking?" he exclaimed, feeling a thrill of pleasure shiver through him.

"No," she smiled, squeezing his hand tightly. "Although Madam Pomfrey did say that up to two weeks either side of the date is pretty normal, so the odds of it arriving on your actual birthday are slim. We should be back at The Burrow by then, unless it's too dangerous to travel."

"Do your mum and dad know?" Harry asked curiously.

"Not yet," she shook her head. "I was going to ask Ron if I could borrow Pig to send them the message we agreed on in the summer, but Ron doesn't know yet either."

"Can we tell him tomorrow?" Harry murmured. "I'm not sure I want to share this with anyone just yet. It's nice just the two of… the three of us knowing about it."

"It is," she said softly, getting to her feet and reaching out for his hand. "Let's just disappear for the night. I don't feel much in the mood for company either."

"Sounds good to me," he smiled, sweeping up the remnants of the Every Flavour Beans from the ground, and depositing them in the wastepaper basket, which lurched from side to side in a chewing motion, and then burped contentedly. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Come on," he chuckled, reaching for her hand.

They crossed the common room, and Harry paused automatically at the foot of the stairs, as he had so many times before. She stretched up on tiptoes, drawing him into a loving kiss, before they vanished from view into the velvety darkness of the spiral stairwell.


	16. Christmas Conversations

_Thanks so much for the lovely reviews last chapter. Expect the next one on Wednesday. As ever – JKR's toys. I'm just playing!_

Christmas Conversations

"Feels rapture, but not such true joy are reaping

_As they who watch over who they love while sleeping."_

~ George Gordon, Lord Byron: "Don Juan"

Harry stifled the yawn that was threatening to burst from within him, and stretched out luxuriously the full length of the bed. His feet encountered the soft warmth of Ginny beside him, and a sleepy grin spread across his face. Eyes still closed, he hovered in the blissful state of semi-consciousness, reluctant to shake himself into life for the day. Wisps of dreams drifted across his mind, happy images shimmered into focus then faded into the mists once more. The scarlet visions of Ginny's hair blurred, shifting and swaying into a new form: the glowing redness of slit-like eyes staring, penetrating through his skull. The merciless glare of hatred burned through him. His pulse quickened. This was no idle dream. Someone was watching him; he was sure of it. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel it. They were there. Watching.

He leapt into instant action; arm instinctively reaching out to protect Ginny. There was a squeak of surprise, and as his eyes frantically searched the haziness of the room for signs of danger, he became aware of her casually propped up on one elbow, smiling in bemusement down at him.

"W-what?" he stammered, trying to catch his breath.

"Nothing," her smile widened, before she leant forward to kiss him. "I was just watching you sleeping, that's all. I've never really done that before, and it's rather nice."

Harry collapsed backwards onto his pillow, and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the racing thud of his heart.

"Ginny," he protested weakly.

"Mmm?" she responded, gently brushing his hair back of his forehead.

"Don't do that," he gasped. "I thought it was…"

"Oh, Harry," she chuckled. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that, but I just couldn't resist. You're incredibly cute when you're sleeping, you know. I think it's the way your nose twitches when you're waking up that does it."

"It does not," he retorted grumpily, rubbing his hand across the offending item.

"It does too," her eyes sparkled lovingly at him in the early morning light, making his bad mood begin to evaporate. After all, it wasn't exactly her fault that he'd leapt to the wrong conclusion about who was watching him.

"Maybe it does," he admitted with some reluctance. "But you make those little incoherent muttering noises and cuddle into me when you're half-awake, and that's really sweet."

"Harry!" She pulled a face at him.

"Nice though," he grinned, sitting up and shivering in the cold morning air. He hugged his knees towards him, and pointed his wand towards the fireplace.

_"Incendio,"_ he murmured, and at once a bright and lively set of amber flames quivered to life in the burnt out grate, radiating heat throughout the dormitory. It was then that his eyes fell on a brightly coloured array of objects scattered across the foot of their bed, and he turned to Ginny. "Christmas presents," he smiled, seeing her face light up and an exclamation of excitement escape from her lips. She knelt on the bedspread, reaching forwards to examine the labels on the assorted gifts. 

"Yours are here too," she said in surprise, throwing him a squashy red package.

"Best not to ask how that happened," Harry chuckled. "Although I have to say, it's quite nice opening these with you for a change, rather than Ron."

"Quite nice?" she raised an eyebrow.

"All right. _Very_ nice," he grinned, leaning over and draping his dressing gown over her shoulders. She looked quizzically up at him. "It's cold," he explained hastily, "and that nightdress of yours seems pretty flimsy."

"You're fussing," she said warningly.

"I probably am," he said ruefully, half-laughing at himself. "Gin, I'm sorry, I know you hate it, but it's going to take me a while to get used to this. It's not just you getting cold across there now, it's our baby as well. I suppose this is some sort of medieval throwback in me, like clapping women and children under the hatches at the first sign of trouble. I dunno. I'll try not to get you mad with this, but it's not easy."

"I don't suppose it is," she said softly, smiling at him, and wriggling her way into the warmth of his dressing gown. "You don't need to worry, you know. I will be careful with the baby."

"True," he admitted slowly. "It's just… well, it's just that this is so… so incredible. It matters so much, Ginny, and I don't want the risk of _anything_ going wrong with either of you. I couldn't bear it." She regarded him thoughtfully for a while, before beginning to speak again.

"A compromise?" she suggested, smiling up at him, and reaching for his hand. "You can get away with some minor fussing without having your head ripped off, as long as you let me do whatever I think is right at the end of the day. I promise I won't do anything stupid."

"I think you may have a deal there, Mrs Potter," he grinned, wrapping his arms around her and relaxing in the warmth and security of the embrace. 

"Good." She shifted sideways, and her hair tickled against his chin. "Now, how about these presents?"

"I reckon I know what this is," Harry chuckled, retrieving the red parcel from where he'd abandoned it.

"Large, squashy parcel?" Ginny smiled. "Mum's handwriting on the card? I hate to tell you this, Harry, but I think you're doomed to sweaters every Christmas for the next fifty years or something."

"Probably," he laughed, ripping away the wrapping to reveal the soft red wool, patterned with Snitches. "At least it's not another one to match my eyes," he said, shaking it out. Something tumbled from where it had been wrapped inside his sweater onto the blankets. He gazed down curiously and heard Ginny catch her breath.

"Looks like Mum's been knitting for the whole family," she whispered, retrieving the tiny white cardigan from the bed and spreading it thoughtfully over her knee. "How did she _know_?"

"No idea," Harry said, examining the gift closely. "Are babies ever that small?"

"I hope so," she chuckled suddenly. "That looks quite big enough, thank you very much." She leaned back, and placed the tiny cardigan across her stomach. "What do you reckon?" she giggled. "Does it suit him?"

"I still can hardly believe this is happening," Harry shook his head, smiling across at her. "Are you sure you're OK with this?"

"I'm fine," she sat back up, and folded the cardigan carefully in two. "I'd better hide this in my trunk somewhere, so no one sees it."

Harry watched her bury beneath various robes in her trunk for a safe hiding place. He gave a sudden yell and reached into her trunk himself. "I can see I'm not going to be short of socks whilst I'm living up here," he teased, lifting out a large handful of balled-up socks.

"They're not all yours," she giggled. "That tartan pair are Bill's. I think he's forgotten I've got them, to tell you the truth."

"Maybe I'll have to steal them all back," he teased. 

"You dare!" she laughed. She looked up at him soulfully, her dark brown eyes tearing at his heart. "You wouldn't want me to get cold feet in my condition, would you? Just think of all those Care of Magical Creatures lessons where I could be freezing to death in the snow and icy wind."

"Nice try," he chuckled, stuffing the socks into his bag, knowing full well they'd have disappeared again next time he checked. He looked curiously at her.

"What?" she said, clambering back onto the bed and surveying the parcels. "Have I got a smudge on my nose or something?" She rubbed vaguely at it.

"No," Harry smiled. "I was just wondering what it actually felt like."

"Stealing socks?" she asked innocently. 

"No, being pregnant," Harry laughed.

"It doesn't feel much different, to be honest," Ginny said slowly. "Not yet, anyway. I reckon I'll notice it a lot more when the baby gets bigger. The main problem now is not falling asleep every ten minutes." She laughed. "You know, I'd put that down to working too hard before I saw Madam Pomfrey."

"Just be careful," he said gently, shoving some parcels over to her.

"I will," she grinned back, and settled down to the serious business of unwrapping her presents.

Harry worked his way through his own parcels; a Chudley Canons scarf from Ron, sweets and a magical notebook from Hermione, in which he could record his diagrams of Quidditch strategies and then replay them to the team. Hagrid had sent a large assortment of toffee, and with a mischievous grin, he offered the box to Ginny. She unsuspectingly accepted a fragment, and chewed away happily. He saw her reach for a final rectangular purple parcel and held his breath. He knew what this was.

Opening the package, her face glowed pink, eyes shining with pleasure as she looked over at him.

"Grnnn," she uttered with considerable effort, jaws firmly glued together with Hagrid's toffee. Harry collapsed into fits of laughter, as she regarded him in amusement. "Aggd?" she queried, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," he spluttered. "He makes it himself. It dissolves eventually, but it means I get to do all the talking for a while. Nice change really!" Her eyes narrowed, and then sparkled with entertainment as she reached over to slap him. "You like your present, then?"

"Mmm," she agreed emphatically, spreading the three volumes of love poetry out before her. The golden lettering on the uppermost copy caught the watery sunshine of the morning, glittering across the name of John Donne. 

She beamed at him, and struggled, rather unsuccessfully, to free her jaw. She gesticulated at an upright, elongated package by her feet, and smiled sweetly up at him, before her face returned to a form of grotesque aerobics. Harry touched the parcel, and recoiled swiftly as it writhed beneath his touch.

"Um… Ginny?" he said hesitantly. She glanced across at him, with the most angelic of expressions, which only succeeded in making Harry not trust her an inch. He tugged gingerly at the wrapping, and a snarling snapping noise erupted from within, as the paper fell away, revealing a tall leafy plant, with a shining cherry-red bloom. "It's a plant," he remarked in total astonishment. He reached out to pick a shred of loose paper off the leaves, and snatched his hand away as the blossom made a savage snap at his fingers, missing them by millimetres.

"Floreus Barbarus," Ginny explained, through rather sticky giggles. The flower swayed furiously, and Harry retreated hastily back across the bed.

"Er… why did you get me a plant?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh it's only angry because it's been parcelled up," Ginny said dismissively. "They're really friendly plants usually. I thought it might calm you down a bit about the baby." She grinned mischievously at him. "It's going to give you something to take care of. I mean, if you can look after the plant, then maybe you won't be so scared when the baby arrives."

"I don't think watering a plant is in quite the same league as looking after a baby," he pointed out.

"Oh, I don't know," she chuckled. "This is no ordinary plant. I think you'll have your work cut out for you. There's a book around here somewhere that tells you what you have to do, how often you have to feed it and that sort of thing." 

"Feed it?" Harry echoed.

"Yes," she chuckled. "From what I can remember when Charlie had one, it loves eating things like spiders. It's probably hungry, and that's why it's snapping at your fingers."

"So that's all right then," Harry said with a trace of sarcasm, at which point the red blossom twitched, and curled some petals back to bare razor sharp white teeth nastily in his direction. "Your adoring husband's going to end his days as plant fodder."

"Don't be soft!" she laughed.

"Ginny, just look at the bloke on the cover of the book," Harry thrust the small volume at her. She regarded the picture of the wizard in midnight-blue robes carefully for a few seconds and burst out laughing again. "He's got three fingers missing," Harry said severely.

"So you'll need to be careful," she teased, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"You're worse than Hagrid," Harry shook his head in amusement, causing his hair to settle back into its usual dishevelled state. "At least I can get away from his Manticores at the end of his lesson."

"Just think of it as a trial run," she smiled and kissed him. "It's a good excuse for me to sneak up to your dormitory every now and then to see how you're getting on."

"I suppose so," he said, regarding the plant balefully. The plant glared back. "It's certainly one of the more… er… interesting things you've ever given me."

"Let's just hope it likes hot milk," she chuckled.

Harry got to his feet, and crumpled up the used envelope the Dursleys had sent him for Christmas this year, throwing it into the fireplace. The edges curled, before bursting into bright and energetic flames, charring and crumbling the past into dust before his very eyes. He leaned against the mantelpiece, watching until it had disappeared from view, hoping with every ounce of his being that somehow his current happiness with Ginny wouldn't be shattered; that life would be like this forever.

"We'd better get sorted out," Harry said at last, turning to face Ginny again. "We've missed breakfast, and it's not too far off lunch time. I think if we leave it much longer Ron and Hermione will be wondering what we're getting up to."

"They've probably got a fair idea," Ginny grinned impishly at him, and dodged as he dived across the bed in a vain attempt to grab and tickle her. "Bathroom's mine," she giggled, grabbing her towel and disappearing around the door in a whirlwind of red hair.

Harry grinned to himself, and began to get dressed, revelling in the novelty of actually having access to his own socks for once. Pulling his new Weasley sweater over his head, he glanced around the room. In many ways this was an exact replica of his own dormitory, although Ginny's bed was placed where Dean's would have been. The red velvet hangings round the four-poster beds, the dark oak wooden flooring and stone fireplace were all the same; yet this room was somehow incredibly different. 

He padded over to Ginny's chest of drawers beside her bed and examined the items littering the surface. Framed photographs perched haphazardly on top of stacks of her Muggle books; a fairly recent picture crammed with the entire Weasley family, caught his attention first. He watched, with an ever widening grin as Fred and George nudged each other and dropped something down the neck of Percy's robes, causing him to lose his ministerial poise and writhe around, fumbling frantically to extract it. The picture beside it was one that made him catch his breath. He hadn't seen that picture since… since… Colin Creevey had taken it down by the lake back in his fifth year, when they hadn't even realised he'd been there. The image was so quiet and peaceful, with barely a single movement; simply Ginny leaning back against him, wrapped in his embrace, content just to be. Harry could almost sense her there now. Yet he felt the ache of knowledge. So soon after that photograph had been taken he had almost lost her.

He shook himself. He couldn't afford to keep thinking like that. The future was what mattered now, and they had to make sure that was secure. Somehow. There was no way he was going to let their child grow up without them, the way he had been forced to. He frowned. He had to talk to Dumbledore, especially now that they knew the baby was on the way. There had to be _something_ he could do.

A clutter of assorted bottles and jars covered the remainder of the surface, and Harry looked curiously at them. A silvery cylinder bore the label _Perfect Polish for Natural Nails_, a squatter lavender container informed him it was _Potion of Abriette ~ for a magical complexion._ Before he had a chance to investigate further, the door creaked open, and Ginny wandered back in, towelling her hair dry, her face breaking into a smile when she saw what he was up to.

"Oh no!" she exclaimed in mock-horror. "All my beauty secrets are out. You might have guessed all this gorgeousness had to come from somewhere. Now you'll never look at me in the same light again."

"Yeah, right," Harry chuckled, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. "You'll be suddenly confessing you've got three heads next."

"No," she giggled. "There's not a potion to disguise a blemish as big as that yet, otherwise I'd have used it to conceal my brothers."

*****

Christmas lunch was a grand affair, even though there were only a few staff and students remaining within the castle. The House Elves had prepared course after course of sumptuous dishes, served up along the staff table, laden with elaborate decorations. Swathes of holly hung between the stone pillars of the Great Hall, the berries bright against the dark green foliage, and laughter rang out from the table, as crackers exploded with the ferocity on canons, engulfing them all in strands of tinsel, glitter and clouds of smoke. The Christmas pudding finally appeared in the middle of the table, lilac-blue flames eagerly licking the sides, and was soon demolished to leave only a few crumbs and raisins on the platter.

As they struggled to their feet after the meal had ended, Harry glanced across at Dumbledore, to find the venerable wizard looking steadily at him. Dumbledore smiled and nodded in a sort of approving way, stroking slow fingers down his beard by his chin. The bright blue eyes twinkled knowingly, although he said nothing. Harry grinned back, resolving to see the headmaster before many more days passed, and hurried out of the hall to catch up with the others.

Collapsing in a heap on the chair beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Ron let out a huge sigh of relief.

"Too much Christmas pudding," he complained, looking rather too satisfied to be really grumbling. 

"You didn't need to have that second helping," Hermione laughed, settling in the chair beside him and retrieving her book from the table.

"Yes I did," he grinned. "You can never have too much Christmas pudding."

"He's always thought that," Ginny chuckled, curling up on the sofa opposite them. "I remember one year at home… How old were you then Ron?"

"You dare!" he exclaimed, groaning with the effort of sitting up.

"What's it worth?" she teased, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Depends on what you want Harry to know about the hideous stuff you did when you were little," he chuckled. "There are some tales to be told there."

"Try it at your peril," she chuckled, snuggling down with her head on Harry's lap, watching her brother with interest. Harry's arm stole round her, gently caressing her stomach, unable to tear his hand away. 

"Let me see," Ron began thoughtfully, lying back in the chair, a slow grin spreading over his features. "Oh yes! There was that thing with Charlie, wasn't there?"

"Sounds interesting," Harry laughed.

"Yeah, he wasn't very impressed," Ron sniggered. "He'd come home for the holidays. I think that must've been before Percy had started at Hogwarts, so Ginny couldn't have even been four by then, and she was following him everywhere. Charlie was going nuts about it. He was Quidditch Captain that year, and couldn't be bothered with much else, apart from his girlfriend of the time. Anyway, Ginny got all upset about being ignored by him and we caught her glaring at him one afternoon when he was flying in the orchard. We found out what had happened when Charlie came storming back into the house."

"What?" Harry prompted.

"She'd turned his broomstick bright pink," Ron spluttered. "And no amount of magic or scrubbing would turn it back again, so poor old Charlie had to fly for the rest of the season on a broomstick about the same colour as his face."

Harry burst out laughing. He could just see Ginny doing something like that, and he glanced down at her to tease, only to find that she'd fallen asleep again. She looked beautiful like that in the firelight, tinsel still entangled through her fiery hair, and the smallest of smiles playing across her lips as she dreamed. 

"Not again." Ron sounded worried as he noticed his little sister slumbering. His brows knitted together in concern. "Harry, she is OK, isn't she?"

"She's just been overdoing it," Hermione said patiently. "I told you that the other night."

"It's not just that," Harry said quietly, feeling nerves quiver inside him and then tighten into an unpleasant knot, twisting around like some instrument of torture. He looked straight at Ron, fought back the feeling of panic and continued speaking as steadily as he could manage. "She's pregnant."

Hermione's book clattered to the floor. There was a sharp intake of breath; a hushed pause. Ron's eyes widened, and his face paled before colour flooded through it. He bit his lip and looked down at his sister, nodding shakily.

"Right," he breathed. He swallowed hard, and looked back at Harry. "You sure?" His voice was barely a whisper. Hermione reached for Ron's hand and he gripped it, his knuckles whitening under the pressure.

"Yes," Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off his best friend. "She saw Madam Pomfrey a couple of days ago."

"OK," Ron said unsteadily.

"We knew it was going to happen," Hermione reminded him softly. "It's always been a case of when it happened, not if."

"Yeah, but it's still a shock," Harry said.

There was a slightly awkward lull in the conversation.

"So… when? Do Mum and Dad know?" Ron asked, running his hand distractedly through his hair.

"The baby's due on my birthday, believe it or not," Harry explained. "We couldn't send Hedwig on this message, she's too distinctive, so your parents don't know yet. If we can borrow Pig, then maybe we could…?"

"Yeah," Ron muttered vaguely, staring at his sleeping sister once more. "No problem."

"It's good timing at least," Hermione said comfortingly. "It's well after the end of term, and you'll be finished school, Harry, and Ginny'll be pleased to be home."

"I suppose so," Harry said. "I'd not really thought of that side of things much. I'm more worried about getting them through the next few months, to tell you the truth."

"Them?" Ron echoed, burying his head in his hands.

"Ginny and the baby," Harry said quietly. "This is going to be difficult."

"Are you all right about all this, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly.

"I'm fine," he said, feeling half surprised to discover that this was actually true. "Scared to death about Voldemort finding out, but apart from that, I'm… It's amazing." His face cracked into a stunned grin.

"He can't find out," Ron said grimly, looking straight back at Harry. "What he's done in the past will be nothing compared with what he'll do if he finds out about this."

"I know," Harry said, holding Ginny more tightly. "We've been lucky so far, but with this baby, we know he would have no hesitation in…" Harry broke off, feeling quite sick at the thought. His hand gently caressed Ginny's stomach, reassuring himself that all was still well.

"Ginny's going to keep to the castle, isn't she?" Hermione asked seriously. "I know that's no guarantee of being safe, but it doesn't get much worse than what happened last March, does it?"

"No," Harry said soberly. He had barely spoken of the events of the previous year with Hermione or Ron, and Ginny had only learned the truth through the dreams that regularly tormented him, even now. "At least he didn't succeed. That matters more than anything."

"Harry, what he put you through was inhumane," Hermione cried, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I could only hear it. I honestly thought you were dead."

"It's OK," Ron reassured her, hugging her tightly. "It's over with."

"Yes, but for how long?" Hermione swung round to face him. "You've read the _Daily Prophet_ reports, Ron. It's getting worse out there. How long before the whole world as we know it shatters? How long before even Hogwarts falls?"

"At least Voldemort's still mortal," Harry said grimly. "Gives us a fighting chance, even if his power is growing."

"You're telling me that's what he wanted to achieve last March?" Ron's tones were horrified, his eyes wide. "Immortality?" Harry nodded slowly.

"And I was stupid enough to act as bait," Hermione reproached herself angrily. "If I hadn't gone down to Hogsmeade…"

"He'd have found another way to do it," Harry interrupted firmly. "Don't even _think_ that, Hermione."

"What happened?" Ron asked cautiously. "I mean, don't talk about it if you'd rather not, but you were in a real mess when you made it back here, and judging by some of the stuff you yell about at night, it was a lot worse than bruises and a few broken ribs."

"Voldemort wasn't content with getting his own body back," Harry said bitterly, staring into the fire. "He had to try for more. You know what he's like. And because he'd used my blood in his first resurrection, he needed me again."

Ron swore, but for once Hermione did not reproach him. Vivid images flashed across Harry's mind, the bright light penetrating deeper and deeper as voices chanted with nightmarish regularity. He took a steadying breath.

"They'd worked out that Ginny had survived the Avada Kedavra curse by then," he explained, "and they wanted to know how. They were desperate to know how." He lifted his eyes from the blaze, and met Ron's gaze. "As long as they don't know exactly how that bit of magic works, Ginny's safe. I wouldn't tell them what it was. Things got pretty nasty." 

He stared back into the flickering flames, not seeing what was before him, but the looming, leering hooded figures, the agonising eruption of pain storming through every inch of him and his own screams tearing through the darkness. Pulling against the invisible bonds with all of his might, fighting against the final act as the knife descended, showing no mercy, slicing savagely through his flesh and sinew to obtain what they needed to make their master immortal.

"I'd given up," he said quietly. "The thing I wanted most was death; an end to it all. No hope. No light. Nothing." He rocked his sleeping wife gently in his arms, conflicting emotions battling within him. "Wormtail… Wormtail, of all people, was the one who got me out of there." He shook his head and gave a disbelieving laugh. "The immortality potion hadn't worked. Maybe he was scared because the potion mistake was somehow his fault, maybe he was trying to repay me for saving his skin from Sirius that time, maybe Voldemort would have killed him anyway. I don't know. The sound of that door clanging open…" He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "It's over," he said, swallowing hard, "but it won't be long before Voldemort attacks again. I've just got to make sure nothing like that could ever happen to Ginny or the baby."

"Does she know about all this?" Ron's voice was far gentler than normal.

"Most of it," Harry said with a wry smile. "Dumbledore's setting up a port key to get her out of here if there's any trouble."

"Good," Hermione said, looking very shaken. "Harry, you're not on your own with all this. You do know that, don't you?" She reached across and grasped his hand. "Ginny's going to need all the support she can get in the next few months."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, grinning at Harry. "As I appear to be an expectant uncle, I have every intention of interfering at every possible opportunity and driving my sister nuts by telling her what to do."

"She's going to love you for that," Harry laughed, his sudden movement, making Ginny stir, and yawn. She blinked sleepily, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face as she pulled herself upright again.

"Sorry," she rubbed her face. "Too much Christmas dinner, I suppose."

"Gin," Harry said gently, wrapping his arm back around her. "I told them."

"You did?" Her eyes lifted to his, the dark brown pools seemed to ebb and then flow with emotion. He nodded. Tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over and splashing silently down her face. Rivulets of salt water coursed into new tributaries, and sobs shuddered through her.

"Ginny," Ron exclaimed, looking anxiously at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she wailed, crying harder than ever into Harry's new sweater. 

"It's OK," Harry murmured, rubbing her back reassuringly. "Everything's fine. Ron didn't even storm out of the room when I told him."

"Really?" she choked back some tears, and hiccupped noisily.

"Really," Ron said, leaning over and ruffling her hair. "Now stop upsetting my nephew or niece in there."

"I didn't mean to," she sniffled, accepting a clean handkerchief gratefully from Hermione and scrubbing at her eyes. She gave a small smile. "Thanks," she whispered.

"It's wonderful news, Ginny," Hermione said warmly. "Look, why don't we go upstairs for a while. You can lie down for a bit, and we can look at that book your mum gave you in the summer. Leave these two to talk about Quidditch or something."

"Yeah," she giggled slightly, gulping back more tears that threatened to fall. "That's a good idea. I'd like that."

Harry watched the two girls disappearing up the dormitory stairs and turned to face Ron.

"What was all that about?" Ron asked incredulously. "Ginny doesn't cry much at the best of times."

"Mood swings," Harry said dismally. "Apparently they're normal in pregnancy."

"That's _normal_?" Ron's eyes widened.

"Look on the bright side," Harry had to laugh. "We've only got about another seven months to go."


	17. Visions on Valentine's Day

A/N: A massive thanks to Alphie for her brilliant tarot card advice for this chapter. JKR's universe, but I'm having a lot of fun playing there! Thanks for the reviews ~ it's great to hear what you think! Do drop me a line when you've finished this chapter too ****grins hopefully****__ **** **Visions on Valentine's Day**
    
    _"Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,_
    
    _And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,_
    
    _Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,_
    
    _Which I am forbidden to see.  I do not find_
    
    _The Hanged Man.  Fear death by water."_

-T.S. Eliot: "The Wasteland"

Rain clouds loomed heavily overhead, swirling ominously across the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, filling the place with an oppressive tension as they waited for the storm to break. Spearing a sausage with savagery, Harry wished the storm would get a move on; Ginny had been in a vile temper all morning, and the heaviness of the day wasn't helping. He glanced anxiously across to where she was sitting next to Hermione, playing moodily with her mashed potato. 

Frowning slightly, he wondered what he could do to help. His attempts so far had met with furious resistance and he was quite at a loss as to how to proceed. Ginny had been somewhat prone to bursting into inexplicable floods of tears lately at the slightest provocation, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her more than she was already. It wasn't good for either her or the baby. Perhaps he should reach across for her hand? That couldn't do any harm, could it?

His reverie was rudely interrupted by a swift kick on the ankle. His head jerked suddenly away from Ginny in the direction of the attack, only to see Ron and Hermione tearing their gazes away from one another with irrepressible smiles and ever deepening blushes.

"Sorry," Hermione apologised, turning even redder. "I… er…"

"Got the wrong ankle?" Harry suggested innocently.

"Something like that," she confessed.

"You mean to tell me you've been playing footsy with _Harry_?" Ron said in mock-horror. "Where did I go wrong? Is there anything else I should know about?"

"If that's what you two get up to under the table, I'm glad I don't get involved," Harry spluttered. "It felt more like being clobbered by a broomstick, if you ask me."

"So now you're complaining about her?" Ron demanded, beginning to laugh. "Honestly, there's no satisfying some people."

"No," Ginny responded suddenly, letting her fork clatter noisily down on to her plate. She shook her hair back from her face and reached for her school bag. "Some people just don't appreciate things."

"Gin?" Harry said tentatively, seeing a hurt expression on her face. "What is it?"

"Got to go," she said abruptly, getting to her feet. "I've got to see Madam Pomfrey. I'm going to miss part of Transfiguration as it is."

"Oh about your _knee_," Hermione said with a meaningful glance. "How is that anyway?"

"Whole lot of fuss about nothing," Ginny grumbled, shrugging her shoulders. "Still, I don't suppose there's any sense in not getting it checked out."

"You want me to walk up with you?" Harry offered, smiling up at her.

"No, it's fine," she said shortly. "I can manage." She gave a slightly lopsided smile and disappeared quickly down the length of the hall and out into the entrance hall.

Harry frowned back down at his own meal, suddenly having lost his appetite. There was obviously something wrong. Perhaps it was the unfairness of the detention she had acquired for that night that was bothering her; after all, it was hardly her fault that she'd fallen asleep in class. It was something that was bound to happen sooner or later, and Harry, for one, was eternally thankful that it had happened in Professor Binns' lesson. No one had been in the slightest bit surprised, most of the rest of the Gryffindor sixth years a mere blink of an eye from the same fate themselves. His mind ranged over the contents of Ginny's pregnancy book, which he'd resorted to reading beneath the bedcovers by wand-light, in an attempt to glean some understanding of what she was going through. Fourteen weeks into the pregnancy was when things were supposed to be improving for her. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his already messy hair, wishing he understood.

"She'll get over it," Ron grinned, throwing half a bread roll at Harry. "Anyway, you've got double Divination next to cheer you up."

"Great," Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Death by Tarot cards again?"

"You should have done something sensible, like Arithmancy," Hermione smiled at him. "You know she's an old fraud. The whole thing is just a lot of hocus pocus. Divination is known to be the most imprecise form of magic anyway, and I really don't know why either of you bother with it."

"Yeah," Harry said gloomily. "It's a bit late to change now though, isn't it?"

"Come on," said Ron, as the hall began to clear of students for the beginning of afternoon lessons. "Let's go and get this over with. Decapitation, garrotting, ripped to shreds by Aragog; what doom do you fancy today?"

"See you later," Hermione chuckled, before they separated for lessons at the top of the marble staircase. "Try not to die too messily. I'd quite like to see you later in one piece. Somehow I don't think bloody remnants of my boyfriend have the same romantic appeal as the whole thing."

"Well, you know how dangerous these lessons can be," Ron grinned. "If I survive being suffocated by that stupid perfume stuff she uses in her room, there's always the danger of Neville knocking the whole china cabinet over and crushing the lot of us.

"Have fun then," she grinned at them, and headed purposefully along the first floor corridor to her own lesson. Ron and Harry continued slowly upwards, reluctantly winding their way along to the very top of North Tower.

"So what did you get for Ginny?" Ron asked as they passed by the Muggle Studies classrooms and took a sharp right up a narrow stone spiral staircase.

"What?" Harry said distantly, looking at Ron in bewilderment. "What do you mean, get for her? She's had her birthday, and it's after Christmas."

"Ohhh!" Ron said slowly, his face lighting up into a mischievous grin.

"What?" Harry repeated, shaking his head.

"Oh, Harry," Ron began to laugh. "Oh, Harry! I wouldn't like to be in your shoes right now."

"Why ever not?" Harry demanded, turning to stare at his best friend, who was virtually bent double in an effort to control his laughter.

"Do the words… _Valentine's Day_… mean nothing to you?" Ron raised his eyebrows skywards. Realisation fell heavily upon Harry like a Welsh Green had plummeted from the sky and landed right on top of him, crushing him to a pulp.

"Today?" He clutched the banister, feeling the colour drain out of him. "You're kidding?"

"Nope," Ron said cheerfully. "And I reckon Ginny's going to tear you limb from limb when she finds out you've forgotten. No wonder she wasn't very happy with you at lunch."

"I didn't forget," Harry protested. "I-I just didn't remember," he added lamely after a brief pause. 

"Yeah, right," Ron chuckled.

"Oh come on!" Harry objected vehemently. "You mean that you did? Hermione didn't have to remind you once?"

"Well…" Ron confessed. "Maybe she did mention something once or twice, but at least I didn't forget completely."

Harry let out a growl of frustration as his fist pounded against the stone wall, causing a couple of fourth year Hufflepuff girls heading in the opposite direction to yelp in alarm and scurry downwards far more quickly.

"How on _earth_ did I forget?" he exclaimed, looking desperately at Ron. "And more importantly, what am I going to do about it?"

"Grovel like mad?" Ron suggested, with a grin. "It's hardly the end of the world, is it? She'll lose her temper, yell at you for a bit until you crumple in a heap and she feels better, and then she'll forgive you. All girls are the same. Plus, you've got to enjoy the making up part of having an argument. Come on."

With these sage words of wisdom, he turned and continued up the stairs. Harry watched him disappear, and rubbed his aching hand thoughtfully. It made a lot of sense, and certainly explained a lot about Ron and Hermione's arguments, but he had this vague suspicion that Ron had missed the point somehow. Besides, this was _Ginny's_ temper they were discussing here, and that was never something to be blasé about. Given a choice between a furious Ginny and ten rounds with a Hungarian Horntail, Harry knew which he'd prefer. He sighed heavily and trudged up the stairs after Ron.

Waiting on the small circular landing at the top of North Tower, Harry kicked his heels moodily against the wall.

"What's up with him?" Dean Thomas said to Ron, nodding his head in Harry's direction.

"In the dog house," Ron laughed. "You'll never guess what he forgot today?"

"He didn't?" Lavender's eyes widened, looking at Harry as if he'd just murdered someone.

"Just tell the world, why don't you?" Harry protested feeling worse than ever. "All right, I'm just a complete prat. Can't we leave it at that?"

"Sooner you than me," Seamus's entertained lilt broke into the conversation. "You need flowers or something. Or better still, a good barrier charm to stop her killing you."

Before Harry had a chance to retort, the trapdoor in the ceiling opened, and the heady fumes descended with the wavering misty voice welcoming them to the beginning of the lesson.

Settling himself in a comfy armchair as far away from Professor Trelawney as he could muster, Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron and scrabbled through his bag for his book and package of Tarot Cards, flinging them down on the table. A memory flittered through his head. Flowers. The Triwizard tournament. Hadn't Mr Ollivander used magic to create flowers when testing Fleur's wand? He had. Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. Maybe there was a way to make the situation slightly better, if only he could find that spell before Ginny escaped from Professor Binns' detention. New ideas began to form, and a slow grin spread over Harry's face. If only…

"Today, my dear children," Professor Trelawney's misty voice swirled through the perfumed scent of the stiflingly hot room, "we will attempt to interpret the future using the cards. You must see it with your inner eye, feel for the future and discover the fate that awaits you."

Harry stifled a yawn, having heard this speech far too many times before, and glanced around his classmates, seeing Parvati and Lavender sitting by their teacher's feet, gazing adoringly at her with rapt attention. 

"You must understand the nature of the cards," she continued staring meaningfully at each one of them, her spectacles magnifying her eyes to alarming proportions. "My own interpretation shows that your work here is important for your future career."

"She means it's going to be in our N.E.W.T.s," Ron muttered to Harry.

At her instruction they broke off into pairs, their teacher drifting affectedly off to spread her own cards across a low table, sliding them slightly apart with long spidery fingers. Occasional gasps and sobs of distress broke through the room, ignored by the majority of the class.

"Let's get on with it, then," Harry said flatly. "If it's going to be on the exam, we'd better get a grip on this."

"I dunno," Ron grinned. "We're doing pretty well without having read the book. Why change the habit of a life time?"

"True," Harry chuckled quietly, picking up his stack of cards and shuffling them. "Well, here goes nothing."

He spread out his selected cards, and glanced up at Ron.

"Bet you a bag of Every Flavour Beans I can die at least three horrible deaths across these ten cards."

"Go on then," Ron leaned forwards with considerably more interest. "If you can manage four, you can have a chocolate frog as well. I dare say you'll need the energy if you're going to kick the bucket as many times as that."

"OK," Harry said, lowering his eyes to the card formation. "Queen of Wands."

"For the woman in your life," Ron grinned.

"It does sort of look like Ginny, doesn't it," Harry laughed, examining the red-headed, regally-robed figure on the card.

"Yeah, and the description fits her too," Ron added, mischievously glancing up from the textbook. "Although, obviously I can't comment about the _'has great sex appeal'_ bit."

"Hmm," Harry said, blushing furiously and grabbing the book. "Warm and outgoing, makes friends easily, has a warm and sunny disposition, is not easily provoked."

"Unless you forget Valentine's Day," Ron nudged him.

"Right," Harry said through gritted teeth. "And in opposition to her we have," his voice faltered for a second as he caught sight of the card. "Death."

"That's promising," Ron chuckled. "You might be able to get a few Every Flavour Beans here."

"Ron," Harry felt his stomach surge unpleasantly within him. "Look at it. Death."

"It's just representing something, isn't it?" Ron said reassuringly. "It doesn't literally mean death. I'm sure it doesn't."

"Then what?" Harry hissed, feeling the tension begin to tighten within him.

"It's an ending," Ron read from the book. Harry forgot to breathe.  "All right, a change, then. It's all to do with fate, and accepting the inevitable."

"The inevitable?" A chill ran through his bones, making him shiver despite the heat of the room. He had this horrible feeling that he knew where this was leading: history repeating itself. They had set themselves along this path, knowing of its outcome. Ginny wasn't safe. 

He mentally shook himself. This was Divination. What had Hermione called it? A load of old hocus pocus. He was just being silly. He heard Ron continuing with the analysis.

"So the next card is whatever's the root of the cause, which is…" There was a sharp intake of breath. "It won't be what it looks like," Ron said quickly, as Harry spotted the horned demon on the card. "Let's see. Devil… Devil… Ah, here we go. Being tied down against your will, submitting to another." His voice caught in his throat and he looked at Harry, confusion covering his features.

"Chamber of Secrets," Harry muttered, frowning at the card, his heart lurching uneasily in his chest. "It's what he did to her there. The Imperius Curse when he almost killed her back in the fifth year. Come on," he demanded urgently. "What else does it say?"

"It's nothing much," Ron said hoarsely. "Fear of the unknown, doubts and a bleak future."

"Voldemort," Harry said beneath his breath, the cold weight of certainty settling within him.

"It can't be," Ron retorted, sounding extremely uncertain. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" Harry asked, pointing to the next two cards. "This looks uncannily accurate if you ask me."

"The Lovers and the Empress," a voice wavered mistily from behind Harry, making him almost jump out of his skin."

"Um… yeah," he said.

"These are positive omens," Professor Trelawney intoned, sounding rather disappointed. "Heralding a loving union and a moral choice that must be made. It seems a baby too looms in your future, my dear boy."

Harry felt his throat turn as dry as sandpaper, to hear this carefully concealed truth spoken aloud so casually for any his classmates to hear. Blood pounded through his ears. They couldn't let anyone find out about this. They couldn't. He glanced desperately across at Ron.

"There'd better not be," Ron said in an angry tone, looking every bit as shaken as Harry felt. "You do anything like that to my sister and I'll break your legs."

"Don't worry," Harry retorted, taking his cue from Ron. "I think she'd beat you to it."

There was a roar of laughter from Dean and Seamus, and Professor Trelawney's lips tightened, and she moved across to their table to see how they were getting along.

"Stupid old bat," Ron grumbled beneath his breath. "Are you OK?"

"Just about," Harry replied, trying to force himself to breathe steadily once more. "Thanks for that."

"No worries," Ron smiled at him. "I'll take you round the back of the broom sheds later and sort you out."

Harry chuckled shakily and turned his attention to the happiness contained in Temperance to allay his fears. The security offered by that card was offset by the Ten of Swords, which Harry usually deliberately shuffled out of the way, trying not to think like that again. That was where he had been almost a year ago; at his lowest ever point, knowing there was nowhere to turn. The pain was there still, and he knew he'd never be free of it, not until Voldemort was destroyed. He laughed at the cruel irony of the world seeing him through the Strength card. Yes, the famous Harry Potter, he thought bitterly. If only they knew how it felt sometimes, his hopes and dreams were laid out in the cards before him and were being broken before his very eyes. 

The picture on the Strength card caught his attention and he stared at it for a while: a robed woman guiding a lion gently with her hand. He touched it curiously, wondering. Gryffindor was for the brave in heart, he'd always known that, even though right now he felt like a quivering wreck, with jelly for knees. He would fight on. He had to. Once he'd given up hope there was no chance, and he wasn't about to do that with Ginny and now their baby to care for. 

"The Hanged Man," he said restlessly.

"It's about ending the struggle," Ron read aloud. "Turning the direction of fate by letting go. The obvious solution is not always the one to go for."

"The obvious solution," Harry echoed, thought furrowing his brow. "I don't know what that could be, and this last card doesn't clear much up either. Twists and turns of fate. We could end up anywhere, just as the Wheel turns.." He pushed the cards together in exasperation, fearful for the future, for Ginny and their child. He felt sick.

"Don't tell Ginny about it," Ron advised as they eventually escaped and headed back down to rejoin the rest of the school. "We've probably got most of it wrong anyway."

"You think?" Harry said sceptically.

"I don't know," Ron admitted, running his hand though his hair and making it stand on end, looking like an embarrassed porcupine. "What I do know," he added, quickly pulling Harry into a quiet alcove, "is that she shouldn't get upset. There's no telling how she'll react to something like this."

"But keeping something like that from her…?" Harry shook his head. "If there's even the slightest chance that any of that is true, wouldn't you rather know about it if you were her?"

"Probably," Ron admitted slowly. He looked carefully at Harry and continued in a lower tone, "But then, neither of us really know what she's going through."

"I shouldn't have dragged her into all this," Harry burst out angrily. "I've got no right to put her in danger. If you hadn't covered it up so well anything could have happened."

"But it hasn't, and she's fine," Ron reminded him. "Divination's all rubbish anyway. Forget it."

"I can't," Harry said, moving restlessly around the confines of the alcove. "How can I stop worrying about her? About _them_? You're right though, I don't think it's such a good idea to tell her: not yet. She's feeling fragile enough, without this as well."

"I can honestly say that my little sister and fragile are two concepts I've never heard together in the same sentence," Ron chuckled suddenly. "Bearing in mind she's about to rip your head off, Harry, what are you going to do?"

"Go to the library," Harry responded instantly, matching his actions to his words and heading into the corridor once more.

"You're turning into Hermione," Ron teased, as they twisted their way downwards past the Muggle Studies classrooms. "Since when did doing your homework mean Ginny's going to forgive you?"

"It's not homework," Harry grinned, separating from Ron at the top of the main stairwell. "Far more important than that. See you later."

*****

A couple of hours later, Harry was sitting, waiting patiently on the floor in the empty corridor outside Professor Binns' History of Magic classroom. He had been there for quite some time, not knowing quite when Ginny's detention would end, and determined not to miss her. His wand swung loosely between his fingers, golden sparks showering out of the end every now and then as it bounced against his leg. On the opposite wall hung a portrait of a wizard with lengthy locks of grey, who wrote incessantly in a massive tome, pausing every now and then to dip his quill in ink again, before resuming his task. Harry was just on the verge of falling asleep himself, when the door creaked open and he scrambled hastily to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said honestly, looking into the angry brown eyes not far from his own. "Ginny, I am so sorry. Why don't you turn me into a toad and squash me with your foot, or maybe that itching spell you used on Fred a while back might be more of a punishment? Or both?" 

"Mmm," she said, her lips pressed together firmly. "It hurts, you know. It feels like you were too caught up in your Quidditch and stuff to notice me."

"Gin," he said helplessly. "You know that's not true. You mean more to me than anything and I want to make this up to you somehow."

"You can't just expect to make everything all better because you feel like it," she snapped, her brow furrowing. "My fan club remembered, but my husband didn't? Harry, how did you think I felt this morning, everyone asking me about you? You know what they're all like."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, dropping his gaze and staring guiltily down at his shoes.

"And having to see Madam Pomfrey made it worse," she burst out, making Harry glance nervously up and down the deserted corridor, the fears from the Divination lesson leaping back into his mind. "It just felt like I was doing all this on my own."

"You're not," he said urgently. "Ginny, I promise you're not on your own. I know I shouldn't have forgotten," he confessed. "If you can think of anything worse to do to me, then that's fine. I'd even let you turn my Firebolt pink if it makes you feel better. I deserve that far more than Charlie did, I'm willing to bet."

"You do," she said, her mouth breaking into a small smile. "And just what do you propose to do to persuade me to forgive you, Mr Potter?"

"I was hoping you were going to ask that," Harry said smiling back at her. "Can I take your bag? We've got a bit of a walk."

They strolled quietly through the castle, through many doors and corridors leading further and further away from the hub of the school, and finally, checking carefully all around them to ensure they were unobserved, they ducked under a low-slung archway in a darkened corner to reach their destination. Ginny turned to Harry, her smile curious, and warm.

"We're here?" she asked, biting her lip as she recognised the landing.

"Well, Dumbledore did say we could come back sometimes if no one was going to notice us," Harry explained, returning her smile. "If you ask me, you deserve far more than any normal Valentine's gift, so this is what I came up with."

"And what's that?" she smiled.

He gave the password, and the door swung open, allowing her to enter. She took a couple of steps inside their room before bursting out into fits of laughter.

"You've been learning the Orchideous Spell," she spluttered, pushing her way past the numerous blooms that quite literally filled the room, covering the floor and surfaces, and permeating the place with a fragrant scent.

"Thought you might like a flower or two," Harry chuckled, closing the door firmly behind him. "Trust you to know the name of the spell, though. Have you any idea how long it took me to find that in the library?"

"Ages, I hope," she grinned mischievously at him.

"So, having gone to all the bother of learning the spell, I thought I'd better put it to good use," he grinned, collecting a single white rose from the arrangement by his feet and holding it out for her. "Peace offering?"

She smiled. "It's beautiful, Harry," she said quietly, taking the flower and gazing at it. "I would hug you, but I have this sneaking suspicion I'll disappear forever, drowned in this sea of flowers if I dare to move. Would I be horribly ungrateful if I got rid of them for a bit?"

"I'll be traumatised for life," he chuckled, waving his wand and banishing the flowers quickly. 

"I'm keeping this one," she said, placing her rose carefully on the mantelpiece. "Don't let me forget it, will you?"

"No," he responded, wrapping her tightly in his arms, and feeling some of the tension of the day start to ebb out of him. He kissed her forehead. "How was detention?"

"Dull," she said, with a giggle. "I'd not expect much else from Professor Binns, would you?"

"I suppose not," he chuckled, manoeuvring her gently into a chair by the fire. "But you're going to take it easy for now and relax, Mrs Potter, and that's an order. It's not just the flowers I've got for you."

"It's not?" she said in amazement.

"No," Harry chuckled, settling on the footstool beside her and reaching for the box he'd acquired from Dobby earlier that evening, and performed a basic freezing spell on. "What do you want more now than anything else?"

Her brown eyes twinkled in the candlelight of the room, glowing in anticipation.

"Ice-cream?" she said hopefully.

"So, if in the middle of a bitterly cold February," Harry teased, producing the aforementioned ice-cream, "my wife has developed a thing for banana ice-cream, who am I to complain?"

"Not me, the baby," she giggled, impatiently grabbing the bowl from him and sliding a spoonful quickly into her mouth with a contented sigh. "Don't ask me what's going on. Baby wants ice-cream, and I'm not in a position to argue." She shrugged and set about devouring the entire contents of the bowl. 

"How's the baby doing?" Harry asked gently, pulling her feet onto his lap. "How are _you_?"

"Absolutely fine," she smiled and giggled suddenly. "In fact, I've got the tiniest bit of a bump now. Give me a hand to take the charm off and I'll show you."

"It might just be all the ice-cream you've been scoffing," Harry teased, casting his part of the illusion.

"I'd need to eat a lot of it to produce _this_," she laughed.

"Gin, you've been eating your own bodyweight in ice-cream every day for the past month!"

"No one else has said anything," she protested.

"That's because you've been raiding the kitchens at three in the morning," he pointed out. "Even the House Elves wouldn't notice you at that time."

"Good point," she giggled, grabbing his hand suddenly and guiding it through folds of robes onto her stomach. His hand flexed, absorbing her warmth, remembering the very feel of her. Slowly, a huge grin spread across his face. She was right.

"That's the baby?" he said incredulously, stroking the slight swelling of her stomach. She nodded, her own face wreathed in smiles. "Wow," he whispered, sensing the firmness, the reality of their child.

"Amazing, isn't it?" she said, caressing a soft hand down his cheek. "That's part of us in there." She gave a sudden exclamation, and leaned over to reach into her bag. "Um… Harry," she said, turning rather pink and biting her lip. "Er… I forgot to give you this earlier. Sorry!" She held out an envelope, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing.

"I'm glad I'm not the only one who forgets things," he teased.

"Your brain shrinks when you're pregnant," she giggled. "What's your excuse?"

"Sympathetic brain shrinking?" he suggested, tearing through the envelope and opening the card. He grinned at her, before reading the words written out in her fluid script.

_"Harry,_

_Life has changed so much for us in these past few months, so much that is new has made my life with you better than I had ever dreamed about. So I thought I'd try something new as well. I've read a lot of poems, but never written one before. This is for you, with all my heart. My love now and always,_

_Ginny._

_Sonnet for Harry_

_My quill pauses, as I search for the words_ _To move from what poets have said for years_ _Waxing lyrical their love to lengths absurd_

_Revealing to all their most naked fears._

_Yet, this is a gift, just from me to you:_

_An honest truth, an open heart, my life._

_Together we'll face each challenge anew_ _The future is ours, as husband and wife._ _Your babe that I carry beneath my heart_ _So secretly safe, this life from our love,_

_This love of our life, of us is a part._

_Stealing socks a token always to prove_

_Forever I'm yours, through chaos and calm,_ _With all that I am, held here in your palm._

Harry tore his eyes from the page and looked at her, seeing her face flushing so furiously that it almost blended with her hair.

"Gin…" 

Words seemed inadequate somehow, they couldn't sum up what he wanted to say, how much this meant. He reached for her, burying his face in the fiery depths her hair, simply holding her close and enfolding her safely in his love. A distant rumble of thunder sounded from beyond the Forbidden Forest, bringing with it recollections of the Divination lesson. He tightened his arms around her, clinging to his world in a desperate attempt to stop time, to stave off the inevitability of the future. It was a long while before either of them moved.


	18. Broken Dreams

Thanks as ever for the reviews ~ you always make me smile! I love hearing from you, so do drop me a line! 

JKR is the God. I'm angling to become a puppeteer in her world…

Broken Dreams

****

_'The mirror crack'd from side to side;_   
_"The curse is come upon me," cried_   
_The Lady of Shalott.'_

Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "The Lady of Shalott" 

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" A familiar voice hissed through the darkness, a hand shaking him roughly. Harry sat up rapidly, prising his heavy eyelids open as he did so, and running a hand through his tousled hair in confusion.

"What?" he yawned, moving over to let Ginny clamber through the hangings and into bed beside him. "Argh! Cold feet!"

"Shh!" she giggled. "You'll wake the others up if you're not careful."

"Mmm," Harry agreed sleepily, cuddling into her, and running a gentle hand over her stomach. "Nice," he muttered contentedly. He felt a firm tugging on his pyjama jacket and forced his eyes open again.

"Baby wants some ice-cream," Ginny whispered in his ear.

"Right," he said sleepily.

"No, Harry," she insisted. "You don't understand. Baby wants some ice-cream NOW!"

"Now?" he echoed, fumbling for his glasses, and squinting unsuccessfully at his watch through the darkness. "But it's the middle of the night."

"Please?" she begged, looking up at him with soulful brown eyes that tore at his heart. "I s'pose if you're too tired, I could go myself…"

"Absolutely not," Harry interrupted her firmly, remembering the disastrous last occasion when she had attempted to visit the kitchens. "I'll go, just give me a chance."

"Thanks," she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.

"Come on," he whispered, sliding out of bed into the chill of the night air and grabbing a few necessary items from his trunk. Her grin could be seen distinctly through the inky-blue light, and without another word they silently crept towards the door. A sudden snorting from Neville made Harry freeze. Heart beating quickly, he waited, the silence seeming to last for aeons, before the regularity of soft snoring began again. Harry quickly ushered Ginny through the dormitory door, onto the landing beyond.

Harry was thankful to see that the common room was entirely deserted, a lively fire crackling and leaping in the grate.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Ginny asked anxiously, her hand rubbing the small of her back as she stretched the muscles, grimacing slightly.

"Positive," Harry smiled, shaking out the invisibility cloak. "I'll be back before you know it. Any particular flavour tonight?"

"Banana," she replied, without hesitation. "The baby definitely likes banana."

"This kid of ours has a lot to answer for," Harry chuckled. "I shall have words with him when he eventually arrives. Are you sure you're OK? Come on, sit down for a while."

"I'm fine," she smiled up at him, and obediently curled up in an armchair beside the fire. "A few aches and pains sometimes, but that's nothing out of the ordinary."

"I could rub your back if you want," Harry began, but was cut off before he could get any further.

"Ice-cream," Ginny said, in a steely voice, which brooked no opposition. Harry took one look at the expression on her face and grabbed his invisibility cloak.

"Back soon." He kissed her, and with a swift glance at the Marauders' Map, he slipped out of the portrait hole, and into the night.

The corridors were silent. Moonlight streamed through the lofty windows, eerily stretching pale blue rectangles across the floor, glinting off suits of armour. Harry crept stealthily down corridor after corridor, past slumbering portraits, and paused in a patch of moonlight at the head of the stairs, checking the map carefully, before he slunk into the shadows to descend. Encountering the stone floor of the entrance hall, he shivered suddenly, but followed the now familiar path, turning left along the flagged floor and down a flight of stone steps, stumbling slightly as he missed his footing in the velvety darkness. Counting the paces along the corridor, he paused instinctively beside a portrait, and reached out and tickled part of it. A chuckling noise assaulted his ears, and he seized the door handle that appeared, slipping inside the kitchen and closing the door firmly behind him.

The kitchen itself was in darkness, a few hours still before the bustle of the House Elves would shatter the stillness of the vast room in their efficient breakfast preparations. The brass pots and pans shone in the moonlight, seeming to shift slightly before his gaze as he crossed to the smaller, darker pantry area beyond. An icy draft ran its fingers across the back of his neck, making him shudder. Small goosebumps tingled across his skin. The silence surrounding him seemed to thicken; his heart thumped erratically, pounding ever louder in his ears as he carefully reached into the cupboard.

The chill of the magical frost assaulted his fingers, and he groped blindly through the contents of the shelves, seeking Ginny's desire. The tub slipped from between his fingers; he fumbled badly and suppressed a yell of anguish as it landed heavily on his foot. Hopping slightly, he massaged his aching toes, fervently hoping that Ginny wouldn't have this craving for too much longer. This was becoming ridiculous.

He bent to retrieve the fallen item, but stopped abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Something was there, moving in the kitchen. Someone. A footfall. Slow steps shuffled closer, a thin beam of wand light pierced through the darkness of the pantry. Harry backed warily away, clutching the folds of his invisibility cloak tightly around him as the ray of light became stronger and the silhouette of a familiar figure was framed in the doorway. Harry bit his lip hard, to stop himself from breaking into nervous laughter, the pain of the action bringing with it the seriousness of his predicament. How on earth was he going to explain this if he was caught?

Her red tartan dressing gown illuminated by wand light, Professor McGonagall scanned her beam around the small pantry, her beam finally pausing, penetrating right through the very spot where Harry was cowering. The beam twitched slightly as she examined the shelves behind him.

"Ah, there they are!" she exclaimed softly to herself. Squinting at the bright light, Harry suddenly felt his throat turn bone-dry, and he seemed unable to move a millimetre. He tried to swallow. She would find him. He might be invisible, but he was still solid to the touch. The wand moved closer. This was it.

Harry galvanised himself into action, slipping silently sideways to conceal himself behind the table weighed down with the vast quantities of fruit that were consumed at Hogwarts each day. In his haste, his foot caught on the table leg, and he found himself tumbling headlong onto the floor with a painful and very audible thump. He desperately grabbed at the table in a desperate attempt to steady himself, but to no avail. Oranges, apples, fruits of every size and shape rained down upon him, bouncing off his body and rolling across the floor. In panic, Harry scrabbled to his feet, slipping on the fruit and crashing heavily on his knees on the hard stone floor. An involuntary groan burst out of him.

The candles in the room flickered to life at a single command, casting the entire room into clear focus. Professor McGonagall, dark hair tied loosely in a ponytail, surveyed the debris, her lips pressed firmly together in the way that only she could. The adrenaline pounded round Harry's body, the rhythm of his quickening heart drumming in his ears. There was no way out. She knew.

"Potter!" It wasn't a question. Professor McGonagall's crisp tones broke through the stillness of the night. "I suggest that you reappear immediately and tidy up this mess."

Knowing that he was caught, his heart sank and Harry pulled the cloak hood from his face, looking fearfully at the Head of Gryffindor House. Quite what the punishment for this would be, he didn't like to think, but judging by the look on Professor McGonagall's face, he would be lucky to emerge unscathed.

"Just what did you think you were doing?" she snapped, glaring fiercely at him. "Down here, out of bounds and in the middle of the night? One of my prefects as well! I've got a good mind to stop you from playing in the next Quidditch match. I expected better of you than this, and I would have hoped by now that you were actually beginning to develop a sense of responsibility. It seems I was wrong."

"Sorry," Harry responded guiltily, stooping to gather up the stray fruit on the floor, and dumping it back on the table. His teacher watched him in silence for a while, frowning heavily at him.

"What _are_ you doing down here anyway?" she demanded.

"Ginny wanted some ice-cream," Harry responded, retrieving a pineapple from under the table. "It's a craving thing. I wouldn't let her come down."

"I should think not," Professor McGonagall responded in a kinder tone. "But really, Potter, you can't be wandering around like this at night."

"I know. I know," Harry burst out, feeling completely frustrated by the whole thing. "But what else am I supposed to do? She can't sleep when she gets like this. It's really difficult to carry on as normal, you know, because everything's _not_ normal, and we don't even get a chance to talk about the baby most of the time, let alone anything else. It's impossible."

"I see," Professor McGonagall said gravely. "And Miss Weasley is finding this too?"

"Ginny's managing," Harry replied, with a shrug. "It's getting far harder for her now that the baby's getting bigger, but she'll not give up. You know what she's like."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall smiled. "However, I think we should reconsider the current arrangements. I am sure that certain allowances can be made to make life a little easier for you both, and these nocturnal expeditions quite unnecessary."

"We can't let anyone know," Harry insisted vehemently. "I can put up with anything as long as I know that they're both safe. Won't changing things mean that people will start to notice?"

"Not necessarily," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "I suggest you leave the matter with me for a few days, and let me speak to the Headmaster about it." She nodded at him, and collected a packet of chocolate shortbread biscuits from the shelf, and tucked them away under her arm. "In the meantime," she added, "I think you should take your ice-cream and get back to where you should be. Any particular flavour?"

"B-Banana," Harry stammered, gawping slightly at his teacher. "Aren't you going to give me detention or anything?"

"Interesting things, these invisibility cloaks," Professor McGonagall commented, with a twinkle in her eye. "I couldn't have possibly seen you down her tonight, Potter." She thrust a tub of ice-cream into his hands and smiled. "Go on. Quickly. Before I change my mind."

"Thanks," Harry grinned at her, and swiftly disappeared from sight under his cloak.

Creeping back through the moonlit kitchen and retracing his steps upwards towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry reflected over the conversation. It sounded like there might be more flexibility in this than they had thought, and perhaps they'd even manage to get a few hours alone every now and then. Ginny certainly needed some down time from all the pressures of the illusion and the pretence that went with it. He almost felt like bursting into song as he rounded the final corner with a lighter heart. 

The chill of the ice-cream was numbing his fingers and aching painfully through his pyjamas, but he didn't care. Catching a glimpse of the Fat Lady in the distance, Harry was about to break into a run, eager to tell Ginny the news, when a white shimmering shape caught his eye and he ducked instinctively. Peeves. The little poltergeist bobbed up and down regarding the seemingly empty corridor mischievously.

"I know you're there," he said in a nasty sing-song voice. "I can't see you, but you are."

He swooped lower, missing Harry by a hair's breadth.

"Peeves!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang through the corridor, and with a disgruntled cackle, the ghost vanished through the floor.

Harry scrambled to the portrait hole, reappearing briefly to give the password to the sleepy picture, breathing again only when he heard the portrait click shut behind him.

"Gin," he called, removing the cloak completely with relief, and throwing it on a nearby chair. "I've got it." He wandered over to the spot where he had left her. "Oh, Ginny," he said softly, catching sight of the slumbering figure sprawled in the armchair by the fire. The coppery tones in her hair danced in the amber light; her left arm carelessly outstretched.

Harry chuckled softly to himself as he crouched down beside her, smoothing her warm hair back from her face and gently covering her cheeks with a host of tiny fluttering kisses. She smiled and muttered in her sleep. His grin widened, and he waved the open tub of ice-cream under her nose. In a flash she was awake, and the tub of ice-cream was miraculously half-empty. She regarded him with an expression of sheer bliss.

"Thanks Harry," she smiled. "You didn't have any trouble, did you?"

"Oh, no trouble at all," he chuckled.

*****

"It's definitely dead," came a cheerful voice from behind him.

Harry spun round to see Ron grinning in the doorway, and then turned his attention back to the plant on his bedside table. The plant certainly didn't look particularly healthy, the greenery of the foliage had shrivelled to a papery-brown crisp, and the cherry-red flower drooped limply, petals falling onto the wooden surface.

"It can't be dead," Harry said desperately, leafing through the guide book. "Maybe it moults or something."

"It's not a cat," Ron laughed. "Crookshanks moults. Plants that look like that are dead. Anyway, I thought you'd have been glad to see the back of the vicious thing. I certainly will be."

"Just because you don't like the spiders," Harry pointed out, pushing his glasses back up his nose and peering more closely at the plant. "It's all very well for you to be laughing. The plant likes you. Seriously though, Ginny's going to go mad when she sees what I've done to it."

"Well, you've got to admit, this doesn't bode well for the future of my nephew or niece," Ron chuckled, sitting on the bed beside Harry and examining the wilting foliage carefully.

"It's hardly the same thing," Harry exclaimed in exasperation. "I think I can take a gamble on this and say that whatever our baby is going to be like, I don't think he'll be trying to rip my fingers off at every opportunity."

"Y'know," Ron said thoughtfully. "I don't think it is dead. I could have sworn I saw it move just then."

"You did?" Harry yelled eagerly.

"Yeah," Ron replied in a slightly gloomy tone. With an expression of sheer disgust, he reached out and tickled the plant gently. It wriggled pleasurably under his fingertips and let out a noise that sounded like a combination of a parched purr and a squeaking garden gate.

"Favouritism, that's what it is," Harry grumbled, summoning the water jug from the table by the window. The plant drank greedily, then paused, the ragged red blossom swaying slightly in quest for food. Harry looked expectantly at Ron.

"No!" Ron exclaimed. "No way, Harry!"

"Please?" Harry begged.

"But it's… spiders!" Ron spat the word out with a shudder. "It's bad enough that you're keeping some up here in that jar, but actually wanting me to…"

"It likes my fingers better than spiders," Harry pointed out.

"Look, just tell yourself you're doing it for Ginny," Ron suggested, grinning sideways at him. "If she sees the plant in this state, she'll probably go into labour or something."

"She wouldn't, would she?" Harry said anxiously. Ron had to be wrong: there were still three months of this pregnancy left to go. All the same, he reached for the jar of scurrying spiders beneath his bed. Ron blanched, and backed away across the bed. "Oh well," Harry grimaced. "Here goes nothing." A spider wriggled and squirmed between his fingers as Harry cautiously offered it to his plant. The blossom twitched suspiciously, and some petals lifted to reveal bared teeth. A tiny growl emanated from deep within the red flower and Harry jumped rapidly backwards as it snapped savagely at his fingers.

"See!" he yelled, pointing accusingly at the plant. "It's out to get me."

"Think about Ginny," Ron said bracingly.

"Yeah," Harry grumbled, obediently offering the spider once more. The scarlet bloom turned and swayed, snake-like, lingering venomously for a second before it pounced, snatching the spider and devouring it, until even the spindly wriggling legs had disappeared from view.

Harry regarded his Christmas present through narrowed eyes, noting the crispened leaves with curling edges like brown paper. He sighed, and brushed the flecks of blood from his grazed fingertips.

"Now all I've got to do is try and get it looking a bit healthier," he said, resigned to his doom. "I just hope Ginny doesn't make it up here when it's light anytime soon."

"When it's light?" Ron queried, a frown furrowing his brow. His eyes widened slowly. "You… you mean she's…at night?"

"She has sometimes," Harry admitted, flushing furiously. "Usually when she's been after ice-cream or something though."

"Ah!" Ron said, understanding fully. There was a short pause before he continued. "I know you're married and everything, but this is still a bit weird to get used to. I mean…"

"I wish I _could_ get used to it," Harry interrupted despondently. "You know, the baby must be pretty big by now, and I can't even see it. Some days it's like it's not happening at all."

"I bet Ginny doesn't think that," Ron grinned. "Look at it this way: you don't have to put up with things like this for much longer. Two more months here and we'll have done our N.E.W.T.s, and be back at home. I reckon you and Mum will drive Ginny mad with fussing over her for the whole of July."

"Sounds good to me," Harry laughed. 

"She needs it," Ron remarked, anxiety spreading across his features. "She's not been looking too well lately."

"She's worried," Harry said, shifting uneasily on the bed. "We're all bothered with what's going on out there, I suppose. It's got to be harder for her dealing with the constant fear of being found out."

Ron nodded. There was silence for a while. Harry struggled against nightmarish visions that permeated his mind. Everything had worked according to plan so far; they just needed to keep going.

"We'll be out of here soon," Ron said reassuringly. "All of us back at The Burrow." He laughed suddenly, and Harry glanced quickly up at him, intrigued. "That is, unless Hermione disappears under an avalanche of job applications."

"She's not doing that already, is she?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Oh yes," Ron nodded. "Looking into every conceivable avenue of career opportunities even before she decides what she wants to do. I don't know how she finds the time to be honest."

"She's Hermione," Harry grinned, getting to his feet, and hoisting his school bag onto his shoulder. "What else would she be doing? Do you want any breakfast, or not? Come on, we're going to be late."

*****

Ron and Harry made their way through the milling crowds to Defence Against the Dark Arts. The ancient oak door to their classroom was ajar, yet there was no sign of Dumbledore at all. They loitered in the corridor for a while, then finally, with curious glances at one another, the class hesitantly made their way inside and took their seats. Harry had just found his books and thudded them down on the desk before him, when Hermione burst through the door, looking dishevelled and out of breath.

"Where have you two been?" she gasped, slipping into her seat next to Harry and rubbing a stitch in her side. "You weren't at breakfast."

"Had a bit of a plant crisis," Ron chuckled. "Why? Did you miss us or something?"

"No," Hermione said, looking from one to the other, her expression becoming more serious. "I take it you've not seen _The Daily Prophet_ this morning?"

"No, we haven't," Harry said, a sudden quiver of nerves fluttering through his stomach. "What's happened?"

"This," Hermione said slowly, pulling the newspaper out of her bag. She shot a worried glance at Ron, as she shook the pages out.

They both leant forward and scanned the newspaper quickly for information. The headline told them the worst of it: _Breakaway Ministry Battles Back._ The information was absorbed quickly by desperate eyes. The Ministry of Magic had collapsed following a walkout of many staff, no longer believing that the action taken against the recent atrocities was sufficient. Wizards, nationwide, were banding together in a stand against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, prepared to fight to the bitter end to protect those they loved. The photograph on the page drew Harry's eyes to it. The grim determination on the faces of the figures in the foreground struck a chord in his own heart: he should be there too, fighting with them. He knew it.

"Dad," Ron's voice broke. He pointed towards the rear of the group of wizards, where Harry too could see the weary features of Arthur Weasley intent in conversation with the man beside him.

"Was there any post this morning?" Harry demanded instantly of Hermione.

"Nothing," she shook her head.

"He should have told us himself," Ron muttered. "It's not as if we're too young to hear about this any more."

"Ginny," Harry exclaimed, swinging round in his chair and grabbing Hermione's arm hard. "What about Ginny?"

"I didn't tell her," Hermione cried, shaking her head. "I didn't know what to do. Why do you think I was so desperate to find you?"

"We've got to talk to her," Ron said decisively. "What lesson's she got now, Harry?"

"Herbology," Harry said promptly, getting to his feet, and stuffing his books back in his bag.

"You can't just haul her out of a lesson!" Hermione objected strenuously.

"She's got to know," Ron said adamantly. "You know how close she is to Dad. If anything happened…"

"It'll wait until the end of the lesson," Hermione hissed, pulling Harry firmly back into his seat. "Talk to Dumbledore about it, and have her taken out of class for an official reason." Her eyes met Harry's, and he understood.

"OK," he agreed reluctantly, knowing that she was speaking sense.

"It's just another fifty minutes," she said. "Nothing's going to happen in that time, and you've got to calm down first. You'll not help her if she sees you both like this."

"What am I meant to be like?" Ron snapped. "My dad's part of this counter-attack against You Know Who, and heaven only knows whether or not any of my brothers are involved. My whole family could be in danger and you expect me to sit here, being calm in a lesson?"

"Ron!" she protested, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "That's not what I meant. I'm worried too."

The room fell silent, and Harry looked up to see the figure of Albus Dumbledore standing in the doorway. He walked slowly to the platform at the front of the classroom and regarded the class through piercing blue eyes.

"Times are changing," he said gravely. "We must work quickly before it is too late."

Harry glanced across at Ron, and saw an expression very like the one his sister sometimes wore; chin set in determination against the odds. Wondering what was going through his friend's mind, Harry forced his attention back to Dumbledore who was outlining the lesson.

"You must practise defending and blocking spells," he said, looking steadily into each and every face. "Speed is of the essence if you are to gain the advantage over your opponent." Hermione raised her hand to speak. "I know, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said gently, "that there are no ways of blocking the Unforgiveable Curses, but do not forget that there are other spells which can be used in a Dark Arts attack." Ron's fist unclenched slowly on the desk, and he reached for his wand. "Work in groups and use any _mild_ charm or hex that appeals to you," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Your aim is to defend yourself from others in your group, whilst hitting them with as many spells as possible. I suspect most of you will have a bad case of twitchy ears by the end of the lesson."

There was a ripple of laughter, but Dumbledore held out his hand for silence.

"It is a pleasure to be trying this now," he said clearly. "However, the time will come… and yes, it will come, when this may save your life."

Harry pushed the desks aside, to give them more space, and looked at Ron and Hermione.

"Looks like Dumbledore thinks things are going to start happening now," he said, pacing up and down feeling like a caged tiger. "It can't be long now. It can't be."

"It's got to work," Ron said, his breathing slightly erratic. "Dad wouldn't be risking everything if he didn't believe in it."

"How can he not believe in it?" Hermione said gently. "We all know what those Death Eaters are capable of."

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, reaching for her hand. "Me and my big mouth. I didn't mean to remind you of all that again."

"It's fine," Hermione replied, smiling slightly at him.

"Things aren't fine," Harry said grimly. "And what am I doing still here at school? I should be out there fighting with them. Don't look at me like that," he added angrily. "You know I should be."

"Your time will come," a genial voice came from behind them. "Be patient, Harry. In the meantime, Ginny needs you here."

"I'm not doing anything useful here," Harry objected, frowning heavily at Dumbledore. "I hate hearing about what's going on and just be expected to sit here and wait. I can't do it any more."

"You will have to, Harry," Dumbledore said, with absolute conviction. "Believe me, difficult as it may seem, this is the way to proceed: for you and for those you love." The words were unspoken, but the implication was clear. Harry hung his head, and stared at his shoes.

"Professor," Hermione stepped into the silence that followed. "Ginny still doesn't know about what Mr Weasley is doing in the fight against You Know Who."

"And next lesson is…?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Charms," Ron said.

"Ginny's got Transfiguration," Harry added.

"Very well," Dumbledore remarked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I can see no reason why one of you cannot be excused from Professor Flitwick's class on this particular occasion, and Professor McGonagall will have no objections to releasing Ginny. Naturally, whoever misses the lesson will catch up on their work without any prompting," his blue eyes twinkled and he moved on to the group beside them, where Neville was writhing across the floor in fits of hysterical laughter.

"So, who?" Ron asked quietly.

"You can, if you think that's best," Harry began.

"Harry," Hermione suggested at the same time. "Look Ron, I know it's something to do with your family, but if she gets too upset, you can imagine the sort of effects it could have."

"True," Ron said, looking rather shaken. "You don't think…?"

"How do you expect me to know?" Hermione asked.

"You're a girl," Ron said, "and knowing you, you'll have read most books about it."

"I have," Hermione admitted softly, so they couldn't be overheard. "They just tell you to avoid stressful situations."

"Not much chance of that for Ginny," Harry remarked bitterly. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. "I'll do it, then?"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, his face crumpling in concern. "I'll write to Mum and Dad at lunchtime to see if I can find out more about what's going on."

"So about this hexing?" Hermione said more loudly, noticing that the other groups were involved in practical work.

"Right." 

Harry backed away from them and gripped his wand more tightly. He looked from Ron to Hermione, and with a nod of agreement, spells began to fly. Harry felt his brain become alert, muscles tensed like a coiled spring as he waited, balanced on the balls of his feet to block the charms and cast anew when his opponent was least aware. Spell after spell; his confidence grew.

Finally Dumbledore called the session to a close, and with many aching giggles and twitches of limbs, the Gryffindor seventh years limped out of the classroom into the hallway to discuss their experiences.

"That was something else," Ron said, his nose still twitching like a rabbit. "I think I need to practise those blocking spells a bit."

"You should be good at those," Hermione teased. "I mean, you're a Keeper at Quidditch. If you let as many Quaffles through as you do spells, I think Harry would have every right to throw you off the team."

"Thanks!" Ron protested, prodding her in the ribs. "And you did everything perfectly, didn't you? I mean, you didn't turn orange at all."

"I wasn't watching what Harry was up to," Hermione protested. 

"Yeah, yeah," Ron laughed. "Any excuse."

The landing outside Defence Against the Dark Arts emptied slowly, and in the silence that followed, they became aware of a sniffling noise. Ron raised his eyebrows, and both Harry and Hermione moved forwards, listening to the sound. A distinct sob caught in the back of a throat, and Harry felt his stomach wring tightly. He would recognise that noise anywhere.

"Gin?" he spoke the word hesitantly, thinking that he must be mistaken. What on earth would she be doing here? This was nowhere near either Herbology or Transfiguration. He leaned sideways, listening to the muffled sobs and following their direction. The noises seemed to be emanating from a small alcove where a statue of a dragon bared its stone teeth. Peering more closely, Harry could make out black robes, a figure huddled in the darkness of the corner.

With a bewildered glance at Ron and Hermione, he rounded the end of the alcove and ducked down behind the dragon. Ginny was sitting on the floor, her head buried in her knees, completely submerged under her flames of hair. She shook with muffled cries.

"Ginny," he said gently, caressing the back of her head. "What are you doing here?"

"Harry!" she looked up, and more tears began to flow, an uncontrollable torrent.

"It's all right," he said reassuringly, pulling her into his arms. "You'll see. Your Dad will be fine."

"Dad?" she shook her head, lacking comprehension, choking as she tried to stifle the sobs.

"Nothing," Harry said hastily, cursing himself for his haste. "Ginny, what's happened?"

"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed, clinging to the front of his robes as if her life depended on it.

"It's OK," he said, feeling totally inadequate. He rubbed his hand across her back. "Come on, nothing can be as bad as all that."

"It can," she gulped. "Harry… He knows." The tears burst forth again, and she shook uncontrollably.

"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, sounding worried. Harry glanced up to see her standing at the opposite end of the alcove, with Ron beside her. He nodded.

"Who?" Harry prompted, fear beginning to grip his insides with vice-like fingers. "Who knows? What do they know? Ginny, please!"

"C-Colin," she choked. "We were in Herbology and he wanted the secateurs, so…" Cries were forced back and her voice quivered badly. "So, he leaned across to get them and…" She didn't need to continue; Harry could picture the scene all too well. Colin had reached his hand out and had encountered what Ginny had been struggling so hard to conceal.

"He felt the baby?" Harry's voice was little more than a whisper in her ear. She nodded, little whimpers escaping involuntarily as tremors shook her. Harry tightened his arms around his family, eyes lifting to Ron's horrified face. Colin knew. The question was, what was he going to do about it?


	19. Socks and Shocks

Here's the next bit ~ hope you enjoy it! JKR owns the lot, apart from the plot, which is looking startlingly as if it might be mine! Thanks for all the reviews…

Socks and Shocks

****

_"They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,_

_They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed."_

W.J. Cory: "Heraclitus"

Summer was upon them, exams looming up in front of them at every turn. Try as he might, Harry couldn't concentrate, and glanced up for the umpteenth time to stare vacantly across the almost deserted common room. Early morning sunshine glowed through the circular room casting a false sense of security and warmth, yet Harry saw none of it. He sighed deeply, and tried to focus back on the Potions text he had laid out before him: he had to learn these antidotes. The words blurred before his eyes, as his mind ranged over events of the last few weeks, his heart filling still with cold dread.

Ginny had been distraught when Colin Creevey had discovered their closely guarded secret. Harry vividly remembered leaving her sobbing in Madam Pomfrey's care and charging off frantically across the school in search of Colin, with Ron by his side. They'd finally cornered him in the sixth year boys' dormitory, and watched him backing away from them, wide-eyed with confusion and fear. 

"Colin," Harry said firmly. "We _have_ to talk to you. This is important."

"She's pregnant?" Colin said in hushed tones. He shook his head disbelievingly; hurt radiating through his eyes. "Ginny's having _your_ baby? Don't even bother denying it was you."

"I'm not," Harry exclaimed impatiently. "Why would I?"

"You know, I've always looked up to you," Colin yelled, shattering the stillness of the room into thousands of fragile fragments. "I thought you were wonderful, the great Harry Potter." He gave a cynical laugh. "Just goes to show how wrong I was. How could you even think about doing this to her? Have you got no respect for her at all? Did you just use her or something? How could you do that to her?" His face turned scarlet with fury, and he suddenly flew at Harry, and shoved him hard against the wardrobe. "How could you?" he screamed again, and swung back a tightly clenched fist.

"Colin," Harry caught his breath and dodged sideways to avoid the blow.

"You… you!" Colin's face turned puce. "She deserves so much better than this. You've ruined everything for her, and you don't seem to care at all. Her whole life, everything she could have been; it's gone, ruined! You make me sick."

"But," Harry protested, "it's not like…"

"Ginny's too good for you," Colin raged on, oblivious to Harry's defence. "The thing that really gets me is how she's hiding all this, just to protect you. I can't see why she'd bother. And are you going to stick around her when this baby of yours arrives, or will that be cramping the style of the famous Harry Potter? Some of us actually _care_ about what happens to her."

"Will you just shut up and listen?" Ron bellowed, totally frustrated. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"What?" Colin yelled. "You mean you're happy about this? What happened to the big brother protectiveness that Ginny's always moaned about, or do you think that your sister's honour isn't worth the bother of defending?"

"Defending her against what exactly?" Harry said coldly. "Her husband?" Colin turned and stared, a myriad of perplexed emotions flickering over his face. His jaw dropped.

"What?" he croaked.

"You heard me," Harry said in a deathly quiet voice. "Yes, my wife is pregnant, and at this precise moment in time you've upset her so much that I could…"

"You married her?" Colin interrupted incredulously. "Ginny… and you? Married? But… but she's never mentioned anything."

"Well, she wouldn't, would she?" Ron glared at him. "Maybe it's escaped your notice, Colin, but she's trying not to let everyone know about this."

"This doesn't make any sense," Colin shook his head. "Are you saying you married her because of the baby?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "This is difficult to explain. We got married before the baby came along."

"You did?" Colin's brow furrowed. "B-but why would you?"

"The main reason is because we wanted to," Harry said thoughtfully. "Regardless of what you might think, she means everything to me. We did sort of know that the baby would come along at some point, though."

"So if you're married," Colin's brow furrowed in concentration, "why not let everyone know? Why hide things if it's all above board?"

"Because we have to," Harry said quietly. "Ginny's hidden this pregnancy for months now, and it's been difficult for her. She's absolutely terrified about what you're going to do now that you've found out. I can't tell you all of it, but there's an incredibly good reason why things are like this, and if you don't keep your mouth shut, you'll put Ginny and the baby in a lot of danger. I can't… I won't let you do that." 

He glanced at Ron, and there was a slight inclination of his friend's head in response. Whatever they had to do to ensure Colin's silence on the matter would have to be done. A fleeting thought of _'Obliviate'_ burned through Harry's mind. He steeled himself. He would.

"Please Colin," he begged in the silence that followed, his heart feeling as if it were cracking in two. "Can you imagine what the Death Eaters would do to Ginny if word got out that she was carrying my child?"

"I'd never do that," Colin burst out. "I'd never say anything. I mean, they'd…" His voice trailed away and he sank down onto the bed behind him, his face becoming ashen.

"Now can you see why she's so upset?" Ron demanded. "Bear in mind that apart from Dumbledore and McGonagall, not even the teachers know about this."

"I wish she'd said something," Colin muttered faintly. "I could have kept an eye on her in lessons a bit more; made sure she wasn't lifting heavy cauldrons and things."

"She's got to act normally," Harry insisted. He looked steadily at Colin, and Colin reluctantly met his gaze. "That means you've got to act the same as you usually do as well."

"Yeah," Colin agreed. "It's more the shock of it than anything else. You know, I just wanted those secateurs to prune the shrub, and there was this sort of soft invisible barrier there. I didn't know what it was until it kicked, and then…"

"You felt it kick?" Harry demanded, feeling a surge of irritation rise within him. He'd known that the baby had been moving around for a couple of months now, mainly because every now and then Ginny uttered a muffled yelp of surprise when a small elbow or foot encountered her ribs or kidneys or something. He'd never actually felt it himself. The flare of anger at the injustice of it all was rapidly quashed. This was neither the time nor the place.

"Colin," Ron said firmly. "We need to know that she's safe."

"_She_ needs to know," Harry added forcefully. "Right now, she's howling her eyes out in the hospital wing, blaming herself for all this, saying it's because she was careless to let you get so close."

"I won't tell anyone," Colin said, looking steadily at Harry, then Ron. "Never."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"I swear on my life," Colin said fervently. "I'd never let anything hurt Ginny."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Harry remarked grimly.

*****

Harry frowned at his book of antidotes, unable to remember much more than he had when he had begun revising earlier that morning. He flung it aside in exasperation, and wandered over to the window, staring idly across the grounds, lost in absent thought. It was strange the way that things worked out sometimes; Colin's discovery had turned out to be more beneficial than the disaster they had first feared. It was reassuring to know that someone was watching Ginny every step of the way, and even Harry grudgingly admitted that he owed Colin a great deal. There had been one particular occasion in Potions where Snape had insisted that Ginny must sample the solution they had prepared. To avoid endangering the baby, Colin had deliberately knocked into their cauldron, sending the purplish liquid splattering across the room, steaming and hissing as it encountered the chill of the flagstones. In the squeals of confusion that followed, Ginny had escaped her fate, and Colin had resignedly accepted his detention from the livid Potions Master.

Harry drummed his fingertips restlessly on the windowsill. This term could not be over quickly enough. Loath as he was to leave the place he had come to love so much over the past seven years, he wanted this baby to arrive and the frantic worry to be over. Another week or so and he'd be taking his N.E.W.T.s; he had to learn the work. He had to. What sort of a future could he provide for his family if he failed these exams? He breathed deeply, and with renewed determination settled down to learn his antidotes.

Sometime later his concentration was interrupted by a scrunched ball of parchment bouncing off his forehead. He glanced up bleary-eyed to see Ron and Hermione smiling down at him.

"What?" he grumbled, throwing the parchment back at Ron.

"How's it going?" Hermione slid into the seat beside him and peered at his Potions book.

"I'm getting there," he sighed, leaning back in his chair and stretching blissfully. "I've done the worst of it now, I think. Just a few chapters left."

"History of Magic tonight," Hermione reminded him briskly.

"Yeah," Ron laughed. "You've got to stop her showing me up, Harry. I mean, who in their right mind would know about the Elf-Troll Councils of the twelfth century?"

"I didn't know there were any," Harry said blankly, wondering if he'd slept completely through that lesson.

"There weren't," Hermione retorted.

"Oh, right," Harry said, bewildered.

"Anyway," Ron said, rapidly changing the subject before Hermione could quiz him on his revision, or lack thereof. "Now that I've finally managed to haul Hermione away from her books for a couple of hours, we're off to Hogsmeade. Is there anything you want?"

"Not really," Harry smiled sadly, wishing he could escape for a few hours with them. A laugh in The Three Broomsticks over some Butterbeer was just what he needed.

"We could stay," Hermione offered, with a fierce glance at Ron. "I wouldn't mind going over some of those potions myself."

"Hermione, you could do these potions in your sleep," Harry laughed. "Go on. Have a good time."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking carefully at him.

"Yes," Harry said, grinning at her persistence. "Seriously. I've got loads to do, and it's quiet with most people out."

"Right then," Ron said brightening up considerably at the thought of escaping from his revision. "You heard him. He's fine. Can we go now, or perhaps you'd like to check all the books are still in the library first?"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not as bad as all that."

"You are, you know," he teased, making her turn pink. Harry watched, slightly enviously, as they squabbled their way out of the portrait hole. Maybe one day his life would be as uncomplicated as that, but somehow he doubted it.

Before he had a chance to return to his studying, the portrait hole swung open again, and a group of first years swarmed in, chattering excitedly and laughing. Harry groaned to himself as they settled nearby and began a noisy game of exploding snap. Knowing there was no point in complaining, he simply gathered his books together and headed up to his dormitory, wondering if he'd ever been as inconsiderate as that when he was in the first year. He'd always followed the rules, hadn't he? Well, apart from one or two occasions… or maybe three or four… or five.

Slamming the dormitory door behind him, he was surprised to find that he was not alone. A familiar figure stood looking out of the window, a clutch of balled up socks in her hand. Her vibrantly red hair whirled around her as she turned, startled by the sudden noise.

"What on earth are you doing up here?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Socks," she grinned apologetically, lifting her haul to show him.

"Fair enough," Harry laughed, dropping his books on the bed. "I don't usually catch you at it though."

"I'm a bit slower these days," Ginny giggled. "I almost got stuck in your trunk as well, which would have taken a bit of explaining." She turned her attention back to something beyond the window and a small sigh escaped. Harry wrapped his arms around her, and the baby, hugging them closely. In the warm sunshine of the day he could see the last few students straggling towards Hogsmeade, thankful for a final break before cramming for the exams. Strains of excited conversation wafted across the balmy summer air, mingled with the chirruping of birds overhead.

"Not long now," he murmured, stooping to kiss her cheek. "Another couple of months and we'll be living in Hogsmeade, so you can see it as much as you want."

"I know." She gave a small wistful smile. "It's just some days I feel like making a bid for freedom. I don't know how you do it; I'm sick to death of being cooped up in here, and it's driving me mad."

"Well, let's think of something nice to do to take your mind off it," Harry suggested, wishing they could run off to somewhere they shouldn't be for a while. He racked his brains for a possible compromise. "Maybe there's somewhere marked on my dad's map that we've not explored in the castle, or we could go for a stroll around the lake or something."

"I suppose so," her face fell.

"Oh stuff it!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. He looked at her surprised expression and grinned wickedly. "Let's get out of here for a bit. Do you want to go to Hogsmeade, or not?"

She turned in his embrace to face him, hand placed lightly in the centre of his chest. Her dark brown eyes darted mischievously up to his, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"I can think of something else I'd prefer to do," she whispered, eyes melting like chocolate into his. "Equally against the rules, of course." Harry felt a shiver run through him, before heat flooded his veins. 

"Ginny," he gasped. "We can't, can we?"

"Why ever not?" she giggled, caressing his cheek and drawing him into a gentle kiss. "You've got a completely empty dormitory for a few hours, and it would be a shame to waste it."

"What if they come back early?" he wondered aloud, a grin beginning to spread irrepressibly across his own face. "It'll be easy enough for them to catch us."

"Locking spell on the door," Ginny suggested, matching her actions to her words, and raising an eyebrow at him. "And we could always pull the drapes across if you're worried. It'll give us enough time to get the Charm of Illusion back in place at least, and I doubt Seamus, Neville or Dean would die of shock to find me in here with you. We've been together for so long, they probably half-suspect it."

"I suppose so," Harry chuckled, pulling her closer and feeling her swollen stomach pressing into him. "I think you may have twisted my arm, Mrs Potter."

"Well, what's the worst that could happen," she laughed, eyes twinkling up at him. "I can't get pregnant, and they can hardly expel us for it."

*****

They lay entwined together, a tangle of limbs, and hair and smiles. Breathing steady now, Harry gazed up at the canopy above his head, not wanting to move, but somehow to bottle the sensation of present contentment and to savour it for as long as he could. Ginny shifted slightly against him, with a murmur of pleasure, her fingers lightly traversing an idle path across his chest.

Suddenly, he felt a thump against his side. Startled, he jumped slightly, and glanced quickly down at Ginny, feeling a battery of quivers and shudders. She giggled, and leaned closer into him.

"Looks like we've woken the baby up," she said.

"That's the baby?" he grinned with enthusiasm, sensing the frantic activity on his side. She nodded and bit her lip. "I think we've got a Beater in the making," Harry laughed, amazed at the lurching that was going on. "Do you have this going on all day?"

"No," she smiled. "He's fairly quiet most of the time, but he seems to have a bit of a party in there every now and again."

"That's my boy!" Harry laughed. "You know, I reckon with that turn of speed, we've definitely got a Quidditch player in there."

"Fred and George will be pleased," she chuckled. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"I want to see this," Harry exclaimed, burrowing beneath the covers to reveal Ginny's stomach. "You know," he said thoughtfully, rubbing a careful hand across it. "Until we took the Charm of Illusion off, I had no idea that it was getting this big. I don't know how you're managing."

"It's a bit weird to actually see it, isn't it?" Ginny said, ruffling her hands through his hair. "Suddenly my feet seem to have disappeared, and now I know why I'm having trouble getting through some doorways. It's hard not knowing where your stomach stops and the world begins."

Harry grinned up at her, but quickly returned his attention to her swollen stomach, watching in pure astonishment as a distinct lump protruded from it, and slowly traversed the full width before disappearing from view once more.

"Felt like a foot to me," Ginny giggled, propping herself up on her elbows to watch the spectacle.

"This is incredible!" Harry said in awe as a whole host of kicking erupted, making Ginny's stomach jump and lurch in all directions. He touched it hesitantly, feeling the vigorous energy contained beneath his hands.

"Does it hurt?" he asked curiously.

"Not usually," she replied. "A lot depends on where he kicks you. It used to be ticklish, sort of a bit like butterflies in your insides when he was smaller, but now it can get pretty hard. Personally, I reckon he's part of an escape committee trying to tunnel his way out."

"Probably isn't getting enough banana ice-cream," Harry teased, bending to kiss the bump. It wobbled violently, before settling down to a more sedate pace of life. "Oh wow! This really is happening, isn't it?"

"Glad you've noticed," she chuckled. "Although I think the baby arriving in July would be a dead giveaway."

"I can't even begin to imagine what that's going to be like," he confessed, disappointed that the storm of activity had subsided. He prodded her stomach gently, and was met by an outraged kick in retaliation.

"Serves you right," she laughed.

"We need more time together like this," Harry grinned, pulling her close to him and kissing her. "Just the three of us."

"I'd like that," she whispered, sharing his smile.

The dormitory door suddenly rattled on its hinges, and they sprang apart, hearts pounding wildly. Someone had evidently returned from Hogsmeade earlier than expected. Harry shot a quick glance in Ginny's direction and began a frantic scramble into clothing. Ginny's giggles became contagious, and when Harry became entangled in his t-shirt, he collapsed in helpless laughter beside her. Fighting back the shrieks of hilarity made his sides hurt. The door opened and closed swiftly, a set of footsteps clearly audible on the wooden floor. They froze, laughter suspended in mid-air. They held their breath and listened.

Silence. Whoever was beyond the crimson drapes was clearly surveying the scene. It wouldn't take a genius to work out what was going on, Harry thought, daring to glance in Ginny's direction. It was a mistake. The laughter began bubbling up within him again at the farcical nature of being caught like this with his wife. Ginny's expression was somewhere between mortified embarrassment and devilish entertainment at the situation. She caught his eye and her smile widened, the corners of her mouth twitching with barely suppressed laughter. His eyes roamed over her form, realising with a jolt that they'd forgotten to replace the Charm of Illusion. He gesticulated wildly at her; she couldn't be seen like this.

"Er, Harry?" Familiar tones sounded from beyond the hangings. Ginny's eyes widened, and began dancing with sheer mirth. 

"Ron?" Harry desperately tried to sound casual.

"You know, I don't know whether to hope it's my sister you've got in there with you or not," Ron's voice sounded slightly strangled. "Either way I'm going to have to kill you."

"Um… what makes you think I've got anyone with me?" Harry hazarded nervously, watching Ginny stuff her fist in her mouth to stop the roars of laughter. He retrieved a set of robes from the headboard, and began to pull them over his head, wondering why they were jamming on his shoulders, the fabric straining and refusing to budge. He re-emerged, puzzled as to why they had suddenly shrunk, until he saw the small form shaking with silent giggles on the bed. 

"Well, it's either that or there's something you've not been telling us all these years," Ron spluttered, his right hand appearing through the hangings delicately dangling Ginny's bra from his fingers.

Ginny exploded into torrents of uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Harry couldn't help but join in. Ron may well want to murder him, but he'd never seen anything funnier in his life.

"Thanks Ron," Ginny gasped for breath and seized the evidence from his hand. "Now if Harry will stop trying to wear my robes…" She gurgled and the laughter burst forth again.

"Yours?" Harry chuckled, throwing them over. "That would explain a lot."

"I'll leave you to it," Ron laughed. "There are some things I'd rather not know about, and Harry wearing your clothes is one of them."

"Ron!" Harry became serious. "Stay there for a minute or two, please. Make sure no one else comes in. The Charm of Illusion isn't on."

"You're joking?" Ron groaned, and Harry could imagine his expression. He retrieved his own robes, yanked them over his head, and with a quick grin at Ginny, slid through the hangings.

"Sorry," Harry said, flushing furiously. "We weren't expecting you back yet."

"I can see that," Ron said, rolling his eyes at Harry. "You were cutting it a bit fine though. It's after five."

"It's not," Harry replied, glancing at his watch again. He lifted it to his ear, listening intently for the soft ticking noise. "Ah!" He shook his watch vigorously in an attempt to get it working again.

"It's OK really." Ron said. "I mean, I know, y'know that…you… um… but I'd rather not… y'know?"

"You can hardly not know," Ginny giggled, emerging from the crimson drapes herself, and straightening her robes. "There's this small matter, which you can't really overlook." She indicated the bulge at the front of her robes, and Ron's eyes widened.

"That's _huge_," he stammered. 

"Tell me something I don't know," she laughed. "It doesn't seem so bad when it's invisible."

"Let's get the charm back on," Harry said urgently, hearing the pounding of feet on the stairwell. "Come on Gin."

_"Obscuro te…" _she began quickly, her wand pointed at her stomach, the racing of feet growing ever louder. Ron flattened himself against the door to prevent anyone entering, as Harry picked up from her part of the spell, binding the Charm securely. The footsteps ground to a halt on the landing outside as he added the final phrasing: _"Ad opertum custodiae."_ Ron glanced anxiously over as the door shook. The Charm had worked. A fist hammered on the door, rattling the door handle. Harry nodded, and Ron stepped aside.

A blonde fourth year boy came flying into the room, landing face down on the floor. He scrambled instantly back to his feet and looked around him wildly. Harry recognised him at once. It was Owen Hughes, one of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"What's up?" Harry demanded.

"McGonagall," Hughes tried to catch his breath. "Wants everyone in the Common Room now."

"Why?" Ron asked curiously.

"I don't know exactly," the younger boy replied. "There was some sort of trouble in Hogsmeade, and she says it's urgent. Come on, we've got to go _now_." 

They hurried down the stairs, into the thronging chattering Common Room, careful to keep Ginny between them. They edged along the perimeter of the room to the spot where Hermione was standing chewing nervously at her thumbnail. Professor McGonagall saw them, and her hand fluttered to her throat. She nodded in acknowledgement of their presence and turned back to the muddle of students before her.

"Your attention please," she said distinctly, her voice carrying to the distant reaches of the Common Room. At once the room fell into hushed silence. "We have grave news; terrible news." She lifted her head, so she was gazing squarely at the curious faces turned towards her. "We have been informed of an attack. This afternoon. In Hogsmeade." Her hand trembled. "Death Eaters Apparated on the outskirts of the village, not far from the Shrieking Shack, we suspect with the intention of terrorising the village." She swallowed, looking carefully around the pupils in her house, who were hanging desperately onto her every word. "Students, including some members of Gryffindor, were seen in that vicinity shortly before the Apparition. Some have been accounted for, and some… have not." A ripple of fear murmured across the Common Room. Professor McGonagall nodded slightly. "We need to discover who has been taken. Please check now for those who share your dormitories."

Harry shivered, knowing how close he had been to taking Ginny to Hogsmeade that afternoon. He clutched her hand tightly in his own. His eyes swept the room, easily locating Dean and Seamus over by the fireplace, heart lurching when he couldn't find Neville. He looked again, more carefully this time, scanning from face to face.

"He's there!" Ron nudged him and pointed to a figure crouched on the carpet beside the grandfather clock. Harry breathed again, listening intently to names being shouted out to Professor McGonagall. Sometimes the owners of the names responded, and on one or two occasions, a deadly hush.

"Luke Barnes?" Professor McGonagall repeated, white faces twisting and turning to see him, but to no avail. "Thank you," she added gravely. "Any other names?" A tiny figure pushed his way to the front and stared fearfully up at Professor McGonagall.

"M-My brother?" he stammered, twisting nervously at his robes. "I can't see him anywhere, but he's got to be. He has to be."

"Colin Creevey?"

There was silence.


	20. Reality

_Here we go – the next instalment! Hope you enjoy it! Have a great Christmas everyone and expect ch 21 before New Year! As ever, JKR's toybox, but it's fun to lift the lid. Thanks for the wonderful reviews!_

Reality__

_"Here love ends,_

_Despair, Ambition ends…_

_In sleep that is sweeter_

_Than tasks most noble."_

~ Edward Thomas: "Lights Out"

The mood was sombre; low voices muttering as daylight drifted unobserved to dusk. The hazy shades of grey deepened, filtering softly through the circular room, bringing an awareness of truth as darkness surrounded them. Reality hit hard. Muffled sobbing rippling the stillness. Heads bowed, grieving together in little clusters of confused hurt.

Harry stared into space, eyes unseeing the present but reliving a vivid nightmare seared deep within his brain. Inhuman shrieks of anguish as pain slowly built at another's command, bubbling and scorching through every nerve and tissue, gathering pace and force, until it was erupting, exploding, blistering through the very skin. He knew. He wished he didn't. How could Colin be expected to withstand something like that? It was only a matter of time. Voldemort would come. And soon.

A warm hand crept into the coldness of his own, squeezing reassuringly and guiding him back to the present. Ginny's eyes met his, the dark brown pools staring right into him, drawing out his very thoughts. A barely perceptible shake of her head, and a vague attempt at a smile wrenched at his insides, contorting them painfully. He should have protected her better. He was a fool for not using a memory charm on Colin when he had the chance.

"Candles," Hermione's voice broke the silence, making the other three glance at her in surprise. "We need light," she explained, pushing her bushy brown hair back from her face. "I know. I know," she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "I'm just feeling so… so… _useless._ I've got to do something." A flourish of her wand, and the sconces on the wall flickered into light, forcing back the shadows to the distant outreaches of the common room, for the interim, at least.

"Wonder how Dennis is," Ginny said quietly to no one in particular.

"I don't even want to imagine," Ron said, with a shake of his head. "Makes me wonder how I'd cope if anything happened to Bill, or Charlie, or Percy, or Fred and George, or…" His voice faltered. "Or…you."

"Don't think that. Don't ever think that," Ginny whispered, crossing to sit beside her brother. She hugged him tightly, the vibrant red of her hair blending with his. "We've never got to give up hope, not a single one of us. We can't."

"Gin," Ron tugged affectionately at her hair. "It's not as easy as that."

"Of course it is!" she exclaimed. "We've survived awful things before; we can do it again if we have to."

"Never like this," Harry said, sighing heavily. "Ginny, just think what he knows."

"Colin wouldn't say anything," Hermione blanched, eyes darting uneasily around the group. "Would he?" she whispered.

"He'd rather die," Ginny said with absolute conviction. There was a moment of dawning realisation, mingled with something more, and she buried her head in her hands, coppery hair spilling forwards, as her shoulders shook with barely suppressed emotion.

There was silence. Ron rubbed his hand reassuringly across his sister's back, glancing anxiously at Harry. The tension was almost unbearable, the truth aching to burst out of them and desperate understanding written on every face.

"We should have used that bloody memory charm," Ron burst out at last, arm still wrapped protectively around his little sister. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione. If Colin couldn't have remembered, then even Veratiserum wouldn't have worked if they'd used that on him. He couldn't have told anything, because he wouldn't have known there was anything to tell."

"You can't just go around altering someone's memory," Hermione hissed. "It's not right."

"It's not right what You Know Who's going to try and do to Ginny when he finds out," Ron shot back furiously. "Do you honestly think that letting Colin keep all that knowledge is the better option _now?_"

Silence fell like a stone plummeting into the lake, the ripples shattering the smooth illusion that had been maintained for so long. The words had been spoken. There was to be no hiding from the truth now.

"Yes," Ginny's muffled voice came from beneath her hair, and she slowly raised her head to look at them. She shivered, and her dark haunted eyes stared up at them, her chin set in determination. "You did the right thing."

"But Gin!" Ron protested.

"I should have protected you better," Harry knelt by her, and took her trembling hand in his. "I promised you that I would."

"And you have," she insisted. She looked at him, a flood of emotions washing through her eyes. "It's awful Harry, all of it, but I'd have hated it if you'd done that to him. Colin deserves better than that." She shook her head, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

Harry stared at her in amazement, wondering how she could possibly think that when she was in so much danger. A wisp of memory fluttered by, making him pause in his tracks before he could protest.

"Voldemort could have broken the memory charm," he said slowly, glancing at Ron and Hermione. "He did it to Bertha Jorkins to find out what she knew about the Crouch household. It wouldn't have done any good even if we had done it."

"So what now?" Ron asked, running his fingers restlessly along the chair arm.

"I'm going to talk to Dumbledore," Harry said decisively, squeezing Ginny's hand. "We've another seven weeks or so to get through, and I want to know what else can be done." He smiled gently at Ginny, holding her gaze with his eyes. "Do you want to come?"

"Not just now," she shook her head, fiery locks dancing in the candlelight. "Alana and the others are just sitting over there and I… I want to stay here… with them in case…news comes through or something. Please?"

Harry let out a long slow breath; he didn't want to leave her alone. Not now. Not like this.

"I'll stay too," Hermione said softly, catching his eye. "Go on."

Once through the portrait hole, Harry and Ron broke into a run, along twisting and deserted corridors, crashing down familiar flights of stairs and through narrow doorways, until they skidded to a halt at the grotesque stone gargoyle in the corner of a gently illuminated landing.

"Liquorice allsorts," Harry panted, clutching his sides as he filled his aching lungs completely, grateful for the release of tension through the exercise. He pulled a face at Ron as the statue slid back, revealing the darkness of the stairwell within. Without hesitation they stepped onto it, and were borne upwards to the very pinnacle of the tower and Dumbledore's office. The polished oak door shone in the candlelight, and Ron automatically reached a hand to knock, stopping abruptly as they heard voices within.

"I know we're not ready," and authoritative voice declared. "But what choice do we have? If we don't act now, it will quite simply be too late."

A murmur of agreement ebbed through the room at these words.

"I agree," a second voice declared staunchly. "This has been too long coming anyway. I say we do this tonight; strike when they are least expecting it."

"Tonight?" a rumbling male voice reverberated powerfully through the room. "Are you insane? We need everything prepared to stand a chance against the sort of power You Know Who has these days. We go into battle with a full plan and tactics, not just false heroics with no regard for the future. We won't do anyone any good by rushing in there and getting hit between the eyes by the first Killing Curse going."

The muttering grew louder, sounds of dissent slithering through the assembled crowd.

"They have our _children_," a familiar voice interjected. "We know what the Death Eaters are capable of doing to them, and, personally, I think we should do whatever it takes to get them out of there. I'd do that without hesitation if they were my own kids, and I'm sure the rest of you would too. The only way we can ever win is if we all work _together_, as a community_._ I say we go tonight."

"Dad." Ron identified the speaker in an undertone, exchanging worried glances with Harry.

"Shouldn't we at least wait to see what the Ministry says officially?" a fussy self-important voice could be heard through the babble that had broken out within.

"Shut up Perce," cheerful tones responded. Ron sank to the landing floor and ran a shaking hand through his hair. Harry felt his mouth turn dry, and glanced down at his clenched fists, noticing with surprise that he was trembling himself. He moved closer to the door, listening intently.

"Something must indeed be done, no question about it," Dumbledore's genial tones sounded far more sober than usual. "They will stop at nothing, and fear is a powerful tool in their war. Amos," he added gently. "Perhaps you could be good enough to inform everyone of the results of the surveillance operation this week. I will be back in a moment. Arthur, if I could have a quick word outside, please."

Harry backed away instantly from the door, as the scraping of chairs across the wooden floor indicated movement. Ron galvanised himself into action and scrambled to his feet, looking even paler than he had been earlier when the news of Colin's disappearance had been broken. Before they had a chance to flee, the voice of Amos Diggory began, muffled and masked to begin with, then slowly seeping into clearer focus, blaring more loudly as the door creaked open, allowing two figures onto the landing beyond.

"Sorry," Harry stammered nervously. "W-we didn't mean to…"

"Ron! Harry!" Mr Weasley exclaimed in surprise, closing the door behind him and looking from one to the other. "What are you doing up here?"

"I rather suspect they've come about events today," Dumbledore said gravely, the soft light of the landing casting shadows on his face, somehow making him look older and wearier than ever. "Colin Creevey is a good friend of Ginny's, I believe."

"Ginny," Mr Weasley became instantly anxious at the mention of his daughter's name. "How's she doing? The owls you've sent haven't been telling us enough."

"She's basically OK," Harry said quickly, exchanging glances with Ron. "Or she was until all this business with Colin."

"I can understand she'd be upset by that," Mr Weasley sighed. "It's a terrible thing to happen to anyone, let alone someone you care about."

"It's not just that," Ron burst out frantically. Harry felt his heart sinking unpleasantly within him as it did sometimes when he began to plummet sharply downwards on his Firebolt fearing that he had missed the Snitch. "Colin… he… Dad, he_ knows_."

"He knows?" Mr Weasley echoed, looking faintly bewildered. He regarded them seriously through his spectacles, suddenly growing pale as he understood. "You mean, about the baby?" Harry nodded slowly. He glanced in Dumbledore's direction and saw the bright blue eyes darken, the genial expression replaced by one Harry had never seen before. The silence hung heavy over the landing.

"It is time," Dumbledore said. The calmness of his voice sent a shiver of anticipation through Harry. "And we must act, there can be no doubt about that." He rotated his hands in circular motions in the air, pausing as a silvery orb appeared, nestled in his gnarled right palm. He regarded the object carefully, muttering an incantation beneath his breath. Lilac flames began to lick to globe, slowly at first and then engulfing the entire object in a violent blaze. Cries of anger rang out, violent shouting and high-pitched piercing screams intermingled, chilling Harry to his core. Dumbledore's concentration never faltered as he waved his hand over the sphere once more and it glowed brightly, lifting itself slowly into the air and shimmering with a spectrum of colours as it revolved. The bubble vanished into thin air, and Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"Stay with Ginny tonight," he instructed firmly. "Don't leave her alone, not until we know for certain. Take her to Professor McGonagall or the hospital wing if you need to, but it is vital that she is not left alone. Keep the Portkey nearby at all times. Do you understand me, Harry?"

Harry nodded mutely, taken aback by Dumbledore's authoritative tone.

"Arthur," Dumbledore continued swiftly. "We need to strengthen the protection on the castle before we do anything else. That should keep them all safe, for now at least. The Death Eaters haven't yet built up sufficient strength to penetrate the castle walls, and we must see that they never can."

"We challenge them tonight, then?" a pale-faced Mr Weasley asked, sounding quite determined. 

"We must," Dumbledore said gravely. He turned and walked back to the door of his office, where the meeting still sounded as if it were in full flow.

"Look after yourselves," Mr Weasley said urgently to Harry and Ron, "and Ginny. Tell her only what she needs to know, and try not to get her too upset. The last thing we need is this baby arriving tonight." He smiled wryly. He turned to follow Dumbledore back into his office but paused on the threshold, a real smile spreading over his features. "I'm proud of you both," he said, nodding at them. "Just hang on in there for now."

*****

Time dragged agonisingly slowly. Every second ticked past with excruciatingly painstaking precision, each beat of a minute making its presence felt and then mockingly loitering a little longer. Ginny slumbered restlessly beside him in the common room as the four of them watched silently through the night, waiting for the morning and news of those they loved. 

As the first rays of sun peered tentatively over the horizon, the scar suddenly burnt painfully upon Harry's forehead, the sort of sharp stabbing pains he hadn't felt so clearly for quite some time now, building in their ferocity until they twisted like a knife. He flinched, wincing from the pain. Ginny woke suddenly with a yelp and rubbed her wrist fretfully, burrowing closer to Harry for comfort. The fear in her eyes was unmistakeable; worry for the lives of her father and brothers, and their child.

In the days that followed the conflict, life seemed to blur in a surreal haze, ebbing into clear focus for moments of horrific reality, and then they would be tossed on a sea of uncertainty, waiting for news once more. The Death Eaters had won the battle that fateful night, growing stronger in power and ever more threatening. Lives had been lost and other resistance fighters had simply disappeared without trace. Drawn and wan, people sat about listlessly in the common room waiting for confirmation of what had really happened, whether it was good news or bad.

The exams continued as planned, but they seemed to be a type of sadistic joke. None of them could concentrate. Harry glanced up from his written Transfiguration paper to find Hermione staring blankly out of the window. She shook herself and forcibly applied herself to the tasks once more, but with many more thoughtful pauses than was normally the case. Two seats across, Ron looked horrendous. There had still been no news of Bill after that fateful night, and Ron was as restless as a caged animal, penned in behind his desk. His quill was snatched up, a few words were scribbled before it was flung down again helplessly as he buried his head in his hands.

Ginny wasn't faring much better. She was quiet and withdrawn. Her evenings were spent in a corner the common room, with a poetry book open on her knee, staring at it with glazed eyes for hours on end without turning a single page. Harry's attempts to get her to talk were met with total refusal until he had sneaked up to her dormitory one evening and found her alone, sitting on her bed stroking Bill's tartan socks with her hand. The tears had flowed then. A gentle touch on her shoulder had led to her sobbing in his arms, unable to stem the tide of tears until everything had spilled out in half-choked shudders.

The wizards were regrouping with the intention of attacking Voldemort and the Death Eaters once again, many of the seventh years eager to be involved now that their time at Hogwarts was drawing to a close. The strategies were being drawn up with meticulous care, and in the meantime, they were being subjected to a set of practical lessons referred to by the staff as 'Wizarding Life Skills', and by the students as 'Waste of Life Skills.'

"But I know how to make a cup of tea," Ron moaned in protest, when the new timetable for the last two weeks of term was issued.

"Yes, but some of these household charms are going to be really useful," Hermione pointed out reasonably. "It's a lot easier than Muggle cleaning for a start, and you've both cleaned enough trophies in detention to know that."

"I suppose it's a good thing," Harry said without enthusiasm, his mind focused elsewhere. He rubbed his scar, which had been aching on and off all morning, wondering what was going on now. 

They trooped gloomily down to the Potions dungeon for a session with Snape on basic medicinal potions, and took their places at their regular tables in silence.

"Having survived thus far," Snape said to the class with a sneer, "I presume you have at least fulfilled the basic criteria for brewing a potion. Even Longbottom has managed to perfect the art of putting his ingredients in the cauldron, rather than spilling them on the floor. Seven years of study have not been wasted." There were sniggers from the Slytherin end of the classroom, and Neville flushed bright red. "Today, we shall be learning a straightforward painkilling potion, useful for general aches and pains. I suspect Potter here, as our resident expert in dramatic headaches, will be more than happy to sample them for us."

Harry glared balefully at Snape, his scar throbbing in a most peculiar manner. Whatever Voldemort was up to at this moment in time was entirely unlike anything he'd felt before. The pain subsided as suddenly as it had occurred, leaving Harry's mind free to worry again. He glanced over at Hermione and Ron, wondering whether he should tell them about this, but Snape looking at him so scathingly when he leant forwards that he desisted, and listened.

As they gathered around their cauldrons to begin brewing the potion, the scar ached again, building up gradually and then fading to nothing. Harry frowned. This didn't make any sense. Usually his scar was painful for quite a length of time, with savage stabbing pains peaking from the general hurt. He reached for the midnight dew from the centre of the table, with the intention of measuring it into the potion. He paused for a second, wondering if Ginny was feeling this too and what she was making of it. This didn't feel like Voldemort, but if it wasn't, then there was only one other place the pain could come from and that was…

Suddenly the ache began again, and the bottle slipped through his fingers, smashing into smithereens on the cold stone flags of the dungeon floor.

"Potter!" Snape's cold tones rose ferociously above the hubbub of the room. Harry's breath shuddered out in panic. He fought to control himself. No. Please, no. Not that. 

"Headache," he gasped, abandoning his bag and his work. He forced out the words, "Got to get to Madam Pomfrey. Now."

"Not until you've cleaned up this mess," Snape said icily, but Harry didn't wait to listen. Not even pausing to explain further, he fled out of the room, banging the door behind him in his haste. His footsteps echoed as he pelted up the narrow twisting underground passageways, heart pounding erratically in his chest as he skidded sideways across the marble floor of the entrance hall and up the great ornate staircase. At the top of the stairs he turned away from the corridor to the hospital wing, running along the sunlit hallway, and then upwards again towards Transfiguration.

He stopped outside the door, stomach leaping into his mouth in fear and tried to catch his breath to appear normal. His hand shook badly as he knocked at the classroom door.

"Come in," Professor McGonagall's crisp tones rang out. Steeling himself, Harry pushed the door open and stood on the threshold of the classroom, his eyes scanning frantically for signs of a small red-headed figure amongst the sixth years looking up at him from their desks.

"Potter?"

Harry bit his lip, and trembled. Where was she? Professor McGonagall walked over to him, peering anxiously through her black-rimmed glasses.

"What is it?" she asked with concern, stepping into the corridor and pulling the door shut behind her.

"Scar hurts," Harry explained briefly, stumbling over the words in his haste. "Where's Ginny? Where is she?" he demanded again, terror building inside him.

"Calm down," Professor McGonagall tried to reassure him. "She asked to be excused a few minutes ago, and she's just in the girls' bathroom on this corridor. She'll be back any moment, Potter. No need to worry."

"Right," Harry said, backing away slightly, not in the least bit convinced.

"If she's not back soon, I'll go down myself," Professor McGonagall smiled at him. "Get yourself back along to Potions. Go on." She nodded encouragingly before returning to her classroom.

Harry stood irresolutely for a moment, before the pain began again, stronger this time. He made his mind up, and pounded down the hallway, scanning unfamiliar doors to identify where Ginny might be. Finally finding the correct place, he swiftly checked up and down the corridor before pushing the door open and slipping inside. 

Ginny was sitting on the floor, her hands gripping the sink before her so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Her forehead was pressed against the cool ceramic of the basin, and a small whimper of pain escaped from her. 

"Gin!" he exclaimed, hurrying over, and kneeling beside her. She caught her breath, shaking as little shuddering cries burst from her lips. "Gin? What is it?" 

"Harry," she gasped, clutching at his arm in relief. The pain in his forehead began to subside slowly. Her breathing was very unsteady, and she was trembling badly. "The baby… I think the baby's coming."


	21. A New Arrival

Thanks everyone for the amazing reviews last chapter. Hope you like this one as much! I'm going to have to have a bit of a break from writing this for a while, so don't expect any updates in the next few weeks. (Sorry!). There are 4 more chapters to go…

Best wishes for 2002 everyone! Especially to JKR, whose characters I borrow so shamelessly!

Enjoy!

A New Arrival

"What is Hope? A smiling rainbow

_Children follow through the wet;_

_'Tis not here, still yonder, yonder:_

_Never urchin found it yet."_

~ Thomas Carlyle: "Cui Bono"

*****

"The baby… I think the baby's coming."

Harry stared at her, completely frozen with shock. Had she really said what he'd just thought she'd said? Surely not. She must be wrong; she had to be. Their baby wasn't due for another six weeks. This couldn't happen. Not like this: not _now_. His breathing was ragged and he shook his head in disbelief.

Ginny whimpered again, her fingers tightening round his arm and gripping tightly as the pain began to build once more. Little panting gasps shuddered from her as she struggled with the hurt that consumed her. Her face was screwed up tightly against the pain, and as he wrapped his arm around her, he could feel the tenseness across the muscles in her back. Slowly it began to fade, and she looked up at him, trembling. 

"Harry," she whispered unsteadily, clinging to him even more tightly. "I'm so scared. So scared…"

"You're going to be fine," he replied forcefully, his stomach twisting itself in knots of uncertainty at his own words. He hugged her closer and kissed her burning forehead, willing for it to be true. She had to be all right. She just had to be.

"But the baby?" she cried. "This shouldn't be happening yet. It's too early. What if…? What if…?"

"Gin!" he exclaimed, understanding suddenly what she meant. He felt a surge of fear run through him; would the baby survive being born so soon? The thought galvanised him into action, and he lifted Ginny's chin so that her dark eyes met his gaze. "I love you, and I'm right here with you. We'll see this through together. OK?"

She gulped a little and nodded, cuddling into him. He rubbed her back reassuringly, grateful for the brief respite before the wave of sheer pain built up once more, rising to an agonising crest and then fading to nothing as it had before.

"Ginny," he said urgently. "We've got to try and get up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey will know what to do. Can you walk?"

"I think so," she shivered and nodded. "Let's try it before another contraction happens."

Harry leapt to his feet, and gently helped Ginny up, holding her securely in his arms, fearing she would fall. She smiled up at him.

"I'm OK," she said, with a quivering voice. "Come on. It's not too far, at least."

It was agonisingly slow work making their way along the sunlit corridors to the hospital wing. Ginny leaned heavily on him for support, and every few minutes they would pause, Ginny struggling to ensure that cries of torment did not escape as she was overwhelmed, bent almost double by the newest surge of pain. Harry's own scar ached badly, but he welcomed it, knowing that at least it was a little bit of suffering that she was spared. Finally they rounded the last corner, and Harry pushed open the hospital wing door with considerable relief.

The room was empty, beds neatly made up in a regimented row of pristinely starched white linen. At the sound of their footsteps moving down the ward, Madam Pomfrey hastened out of her office, eyes filling with alarm as she spotted who it was.

"What's happened?" she exclaimed.

"Think I'm in labour," Ginny gasped, grimacing with the effort, and tightening her vice-like grip on Harry.

"Right," Madam Pomfrey said practically. "So this is about six weeks early, isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry responded, glancing anxiously at Ginny who was whimpering quietly with pain.

"Nothing to worry about," Madam Pomfrey said gently to Ginny. "Try to relax, dear. Breathe your way through it. You'll be fine." She looked back at Harry. "We need the Charm of Illusion off first, and then we'll see what's going on."

A short while later, Harry found himself outside the hospital wing, frantically pacing up and down on the landing. He hadn't wanted to leave, but Madam Pomfrey had been adamant, especially once there was no doubt that their baby was indeed on the way. His scar throbbed savagely, and he closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the cool wall. If they got through this in one piece, he made a mental note that they were never going to have any more children. No chance!

Racing footsteps made his eyes snap open, and he was relieved to see Ron and Hermione bounding up the stairs at top speed.

"Harry!" Hermione called as soon as she spotted him. "What on earth's going on? Snape went absolutely ballistic when you ran out of class like that."

"Is your scar really hurting?" Ron demanded apprehensively, dropping Harry's bag on the landing beside him. "Have you seen Dumbledore about it yet? He needs to know if You Know Who is up to something."

"No," Harry said quickly, looking from Ron to Hermione. "The scar wasn't hurting because of him. It was Ginny. The baby's coming."

"What?" Ron gasped, eyes widening. "Now?"

"But…" Hermione began, her brow furrowed with worried mental calculations.

"It's early," Harry said grimly, and began to shift restlessly once more. "Too early. Madam Pomfrey said it was probably all the stress." He felt a lump building up in his throat, and stared out of the window, fighting back the tears burning in his eyes. How could this be happening? After everything they'd been through…

He felt a gentle hand touch him and looked down in surprise. Hermione.

"Harry," she said gently. "It should be OK, you know. I've been reading about it with Ginny, and the baby's quite big at this stage."

"Thanks," he mumbled, shivering slightly. He gazed back out of the window and across the grounds, his mind fretting about events in the next room. Suddenly he slammed his hand down on the windowsill, and whirled round to face the others.

"I've got to tell your parents," he yelled at Ron, running a frantic hand through his hair. "Your mum…she'd want to know…"

"Could we get her here, somehow?" Hermione asked quickly. "Owling would be too slow, but there's that Portkey of Ginny's. Couldn't we use that?" There was a surprised silence from the two boys, amazed she was considering such serious rule breaking. She tutted impatiently beneath her breath. "Harry, this is an _emergency._ Besides, wouldn't you feel better knowing she was in there with Ginny? They're not going to let the rest of us in, and I dare say Ginny would appreciate having her mum here."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry nodded, looking around him for Ginny's school bag. He hissed in a sudden gasp of pain, clapping a hand to his scar and wincing. This was getting worse.

"I'll go," Ron said abruptly. "Look, I can't stand this. I need something to do. You'd better stay, just in case." He rooted through his sister's bag looking for the Portkey.

"It's in the other pocket," Harry said. "It's the blue poetry book."

"Got it," Ron identified it instantly and looked up. "Back soon, then? OK?"

Harry nodded, and Ron vanished into the ether.

The waiting was interminable. The pain, the worry swirled round and churned unpleasantly inside him. Thousands of 'What ifs' rang through his mind as he paced and sighed and paced some more. It felt like hours had passed when a flushed Ron and tearful Mrs Weasley finally materialised at the top of the stairs.

"Any news?" Mrs Weasley asked at once.

"Nothing," Harry said bleakly.

"Oh Harry, dear," she exclaimed, burying him in a warm hug and kissing him. "She'll be fine and so will the baby. You'll see. Ginny was early herself, you know."

"She was?" Harry stammered.

"Yes," his mother-in-law smiled. "She always was a bit on the impatient side, and it looks like you're about to have one just the same."

Harry nodded, incapable of speech.

"I'd better get in to her," Mrs Weasley said gently. "I'll pop back out when I can and let you know how things are going." She disappeared into the hospital wing, and they caught a faint cry of "Mum!" before the door snapped shut behind her.

Now all they could do was wait.

The hours passed by, the sunlight fading slowly as afternoon turned to evening, birds chirruping noisily outside. The pain had built to a crescendo, no longer subsiding, but agonising in its persistent intensity. Time dragged on. Restless waiting sank into despondency, and then fear made them restless once more. Hermione sat scrutinising the carpet, chewing on her thumb nail; Ron wandered endlessly around the confined space, jumping nervously at every noise; Harry could bear it no longer, and sank his head into his arms wishing he could somehow cease to exist, or to turn the clocks back so that Ginny didn't have to go thorough all this. 

Mrs Weasley, true to her word, emerged from the hospital wing from time to time to reassure them. Harry lifted his head from his hands each time, the panic sweeping through him as he hoped for good news, yet each time she just smiled at him.

"What's happening?" he demanded anxiously.

"She's doing very well," Mrs Weasley said. Then she chuckled and added, "But you don't want to know what she thinks of you right now."

The howls of pain that escaped through the open door were more than enough for Harry to deal with. He didn't care what Ginny thought of him as long as this stopped. Soon.

The memory of Dumbledore first telling them about Truitinae Bonitas was clear in his mind. The words echoed mockingly: _"Passed down from father to son…"_ All of this was happening, his wife and son placed in danger, simply because of Voldemort and his actions. They should have said no.

The pain built and built.

They waited.

Nothing.

At length the hospital wing door creaked slowly open, and Harry didn't dare look up. Hermione's hand rubbed soothingly across his shoulders, just as she had been doing for several hours now, crouched as they were on the floor, in the silence of the landing outside the hospital wing.

"Harry," Ron's voice sounded slightly strangled. His pacing feet had finally ground to a standstill. Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Harry lifted his head from his knees, shaking badly with sheer terror. The last few hours had been the most harrowing of his life.

"I think you should come through now, Potter," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling gently down at him. Harry nodded slightly, and wobbled unsteadily to his feet, still very uncertain of what he would find. 

He moved towards the door into the hospital wing, his heart in his mouth, feeling almost sick with trepidation. He was vaguely aware of Ron following, but Hermione caught his arm, and pulled him back, preparing to wait a little longer. Sliding through into the room itself, he caught sight of Mrs Weasley heading swiftly across to Madam Pomfrey's office with bundles of cloth in her arms. The clinically white screens concealed a bed at the far end of the room and he knew without doubt that was where Ginny would be. His breath seemed to be coming from outside him, making him feel slightly light-headed and dizzy. His footsteps resonated through the room one by one as he walked the length of the ward, feeling as if it stretched before him to infinity. Each pace brought him closer, brought the reality into sharper focus. His trembling hand reached out and pulled the screen backwards slightly, and with a shuddering breath he peered round.

Ginny lay in the bed, her long red hair pushed back off her face, damp and straggling over her pillows. She looked very pale, and completely exhausted, yet her face lit up in a grin when she saw him.

"Harry," she breathed, reaching her hand towards him.

Words were not enough for the flood of emotions that swept through him. She was alive; she looked as if she was going to be all right. He buried her in an embrace, incapable of anything more; simply clinging tightly to the person who mattered most to him in the entire world, never wanting to let her go.

"Ginny," he whispered, kissing her gently. "I was so scared. So scared… I thought…" 

"I'll be fine," she murmured, her eyes shining brightly up at him. "I'm a bit sore right now, to tell you the truth, and I don't feel as if I'll be able to sit down properly for at least a month, but Madam Pomfrey said that was quite an easy delivery."

"Easy?" Harry laughed shakily. "I felt most of that. If that was easy, I'd hate to be involved with a difficult labour."

A high-pitched quavering wail suddenly sounded across their conversation, making Harry catch his breath. He looked wildly around them, and saw a small bundle in the low cot beside her stirring slightly. He glanced back at Ginny, his breathing suddenly shallow, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. He was a _father_? She smiled at him, and squeezed his hand before reaching over and carefully lifting the baby towards her.

"Harry," she said softly, pulling back the blankets slightly to let him see. "I think you should meet your daughter."

"Daughter?" he gasped, stunned. "But… but… Oh wow!"

"Take her," Ginny smiled, as he stared at the tiny crumpled pink face before him.

"We did _this_?" he whispered incredulously, stretching out a trembling finger to touch his daughter's cheek, suddenly realising how large his hands were compared with her. He froze, centimetres from her, terrified that he would hurt her.

"We did," Ginny chuckled softly. "It's OK, Harry. Madam Pomfrey reckons she's a real little fighter. You're not going to hurt her." Ginny's dark brown eyes lifted tremulously to his, shining with emotion. "You're her dad."

Harry felt a surge of strange feelings rising within him, as Ginny gently eased their baby into his arms. This tiny person was his daughter, his own flesh and blood. He swallowed awkwardly, suddenly engulfed in the realisation that he had a family, a real family. Not one like the Dursleys, who had just about tolerated him because they had been lumbered with him, but a wife, who genuinely loved him, and this amazing human being cradled right here in his arms. He was acutely conscious of a lump thickening in his throat, as he watched his daughter, smiling at her vibrantly red hair, which fuzzed like a dandelion clock, sticking out rebelliously in all directions. Cautiously he touched her, marvelling at her tiny perfection, examining the miniscule fingers on the diminutive hand. Her fingers closed around his inquisitive forefinger and grasped it possessively, seeming somehow to entwine herself around his heart. His daughter. His… daughter. He looked up at Ginny, half-blinded by tears.

"She's perfect," he croaked, unable to bear it any longer. "Ginny…"

"Look," she whispered, leaning forward slightly and smiling. Harry followed her gaze, and saw the scrumpled face shift slightly, an eye levering its heavy lid open to view the world beyond. Harry caught his breath. The eye was a pool of distinctive green, calm and curious as she regarded her father. The swell of warmth in his chest increased, spilling over freely as he bent to kiss her.

The soft warmth of her cheek surprised him. He could never remember having felt anything quite so soft before. The tiny fragility of her stirred a fire in his chest. His daughter: his to love and protect. The love he felt blazed through him, inexplicable yet all consuming as he held her close.

"How does it feel?" a voice whispered by his ear. He turned to face Ginny, grinning widely through his unchecked tears. He shook his head, gulping slightly as he struggled to find the words.

"Amazing," he managed at last. "She's… Oh, Gin."

"Does it matter that she's a girl?" Ginny asked quietly, touching their daughter's cheek with a careful hand.

"No!" Harry exclaimed vehemently, brushing his eyes with the back of his hand and then resettling his glasses on his nose. He smiled down at the tiny bundle. "She's completely perfect as she is."

"I meant with the Trutinae Bonitas thing," Ginny chuckled, glancing sideways up at him. "I wouldn't change her for anything, and believe me, there's no way she's going back the way she came! But seriously Harry, Dumbledore said this was passed down from father to son, and she's obviously not."

"I have no idea," Harry said, grinning back at her, suddenly feeling as though he were walking on clouds with lightness of heart. "To be honest, right now, I actually don't care. I'll work out her birth chart tomorrow if you want." He caught Ginny's eye and laughed. "Properly," he added.

"Twenty-first of June," Ginny said thoughtfully, regarding their daughter curiously. "Midsummer. Might be quite an interesting birth chart regardless, you know."

"Could be," Harry agreed. "Anyway, there's one thing you've got to put your mind to, and that's what are we going to call her? We've spent all this time thinking mainly about boys' names."

"Yes," she smiled. "And somehow I don't think James, Bill or Colin are names that are going to suit her too well."

"She wouldn't love us for it," Harry admitted. 

"We could still call her after your mum," Ginny suggested, stifling a yawn. "Red hair and green eyes and all. Lily's a really pretty name."

"Maybe," Harry said thoughtfully. He stared at the tiny girl sleeping securely in his arms. "Gin," he said suddenly, "you know, it sounds stupid after everything we've talked about, but I think I'd like a name not connected with the past or the awful things that have happened. I'd like something new for her. She's not part of the past; she's the future."

"OK," she said, nodding her head slowly. "But what?"

"Nothing nice in your poetry?" he teased. "What was the last one you read?"

"Nothing any use," she smiled apologetically. "It was a lovely one by William H. Davies. It's the sort of mood you're after but doesn't have a name in it. What was it again?" Her brow furrowed for a second, and then cleared as she quoted softly,

_"'A rainbow and a cuckoo's song,_

_May never come together again.'_

It's pretty much how I feel now. This is so amazing, so special, it really does feel like it could never happen again."

"Reminds me of our wedding," Harry smiled, leaning over carefully to kiss her. "You remember that rainbow sprite blessing our rings. But then, I never was very good at understanding poetry."

"Oh! Oh!" Ginny exclaimed suddenly, her eyes widening and a smile playing across her lips. She muttered something beneath her breath, pausing in thought, and muttering again. Her eyes sparkled brightly as she gazed first at her daughter and then at Harry. "I think I've got it," she exclaimed softly. "Harry, this is what the sprite sang:

_'Rainbow moments shimmer softly_

_Glowing light a bow of colour_

_Gives life richness though air so lofty_

_Hope I give you, never dolour.'_

You remember?"

"Sounds about right," Harry agreed. "What about it?"

"Think about it," she said, eyes alight with anticipation. "You want a name, something good for the future? The sprite's given us the answer right there."

"She has?" Harry asked, feeling completely confused.

"Hope I give you," Ginny chuckled. "I don't know about you, but I think it suits her."

"Hope?" Harry said thoughtfully, looking at his sleeping daughter. "Hope," he repeated, enjoying the feel of the word, the warmth and security of it.

"We all need something good to hang on to," Ginny explained, wincing slightly as she shifted back against her pillows. "That's true now more than ever. Our own little ray of Hope right there."

"I like it," Harry grinned, tilting his head sideways to look at their baby once again. He nodded his head. "Hope it is, then."

Hope stirred slightly in his arms, her face scrunching up against the world, tiny fingers flexing fractiously against the blanket.

"Here," Ginny reached her arms out, and Harry moved awkwardly, suddenly worried about hurting the baby again with his clumsy unfamiliarity. Gently she was eased back into her mother's arms.

"It's a lot easier handling Quidditch balls," Harry grinned, watching the two of them together, glowing warmth filling his insides.

"Oh I suspect it won't be long before you're having to chase her around like you do with the Snitch," Ginny teased. "You want to hear some of the stories about what we all got up to as toddlers. I dare say Mum will tell you when she comes back."

Her left hand patted Hope's back lightly and Harry was suddenly struck by something.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. "There's something I've got to do."

"Oh?" she asked quizzically. 

"Some things have been kept a secret for far too long," he smiled, lifting his wand and muttering a familiar incantation. Within a minute a glimmer of gold had flown in through the open window at the other end of the wing, and he caught it securely in his hand. She stared curiously at him, until he opened his palm to let her see the two wedding rings in his grasp. "Now, Mrs Potter," he said seriously, taking her ring between his fingers. "We don't need to hide any more. I love you, and I want everyone to know it. May I?"

She bit her lip and nodded, shifting Hope more securely into the crook of her right arm, so that she could give Harry her left hand. The ring slid back onto her finger, just like the day he had married her. That was where it belonged, and suddenly everything was right again, the way it should be. As his own ring slipped into place, Harry was filled with a feeling of wonder. He had a family in Ginny and Hope, and he made a vow then and there, that whatever he had to do, nothing was ever going to endanger them again.


	22. Hope

Thanks for waiting for this chapter so patiently. 3 more chapters and an epilogue to come ~ drop a line to review if you're reading please. JKR is the genius who inspired the plot bunny…

Hope

_"To see a World in a grain of sand,_

_And Heaven in a wild flower,_

_Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,_

_And Eternity in an hour."_

William Blake: "Auguries of Innocence"

*****

"So what do you think of her?" Mrs Weasley's proud voice cut through the silence. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Harry glanced up from watching his daughter sleeping, his arm tightening around Ginny. He could feel his irrepressible grin broadening as he made eye contact with his mother-in-law.

"She's perfect," he said happily, feeling Ginny cuddling closer into him and leaning her head against his. "I can't believe she's actually here, and she's OK."

"Well, she's still very small," Mrs Weasley pointed out. She came fully around the white hospital screen and perched on the end of Ginny's bed. "You do know you're not going to be able to move her out of here for a while, don't you?"

"She's not in any danger?" Harry demanded anxiously. He hadn't even considered that fact before, and just the thought of anything happening to his tiny daughter instantly twisted his insides into painful knots.

"No, no," Mrs Weasley reassured him quickly. "She's breathing well and seems happy enough. It's just best if we keep her here for a while, where Madam Pomfrey can keep an eye on her."

"It makes sense, Harry," Ginny said softly, reaching up to kiss his cheek. She laughed a little. "Besides, we need all the help we can get in how to look after her. I don't know how to; do you?"

"I s'pose not," Harry said reluctantly. "But Gin, wouldn't you rather be at home? I'm sure that with Hope arriving like this, Dumbledore would let us leave school before the end of term."

"Hope?" Mrs Weasley queried. "Is that what you're going to call her?" 

Ginny nodded, and smiled happily at her mum.

"We thought it suited her," she said simply. 

"Something just for her," Harry added, grinning across at his wife, their eyes meeting in perfect understanding.

"For the future, not the past," Ginny whispered, squeezing his hand in hers.

"It's lovely," Mrs Weasley said, nodding her head in approval. "I don't think you could have chosen anything better for her, or for you." She beamed down at her little granddaughter, "She's a real beauty, isn't she? You've done a good job with her."

Harry smiled down at his daughter himself, memorising the curves of her face, the smudge of a nose and the distinctive Weasley hair, bright and wild against the blue summer sky shade of the blanket. This was amazing. It was unbelievable. She was…

"We will manage, won't we Mum?" Ginny asked, a wobble of uncertainty creeping into her voice. 

"Of course you will!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "I'll be around to help as much as you want me to. It's always strange with your first baby, but you'll learn quickly enough. I'd just advise you to make the most of the peace and quiet now," she laughed. "Give it another day or two and you won't have a second to call your own. I remember what it was like with Bill. I couldn't even sit down with _Witch Weekly_ before he started wailing and need to be walked around for half an hour."

"She looks far too peaceful for that," Harry remarked, still smiling widely.

"Oh don't you believe it," Mrs Weasley laughed. "She may look like a little angel there, but she'll soon be showing you who's boss. It's amazing how they can rule the roost, even at that size." She chuckled at her memories and patted Ginny's legs affectionately. "We're all here for you, sweetheart, and you'll be surprised with how well you cope with her."

Ginny bit her lip and nodded, cuddling Hope closer. Harry smoothed his wife's hair back over her shoulder and kissed her forehead. Ginny had been absolutely incredible today; there was no other word to describe it. How she had… well, how she had gone through all _that_ and somehow come out… Pride filled his chest with warmth. They were parents. Conflicting emotions showered down upon him, terrifying and exciting at the same time. Whatever it took, he was going to make a good job of being a father, and Hope was going to have the loving childhood he'd always dreamed of in those long days in the dark cupboard under the stairs.

"Is there no way we can get them home soon?" he persisted.

"It's not worth the risk of moving Hope," Mrs Weasley said reasonably. "I want to have them back at The Burrow as much as you do, Harry. Another week or two, and we'll see how strong Hope is then, but with You Know Who attacking indiscriminately, Hogwarts is about the safest place she could be."

"Well, you know how much I love it in here," Ginny added, wrinkling her nose in total disgust, "but I don't think we've got much choice. I'm not going back to Gryffindor Tower without Hope…"

"You're not going anywhere, young lady," Madam Pomfrey interrupted sternly, coming around the screen herself. "That might have been an easy delivery, but you're not ready for charging around on broomsticks or transfiguring yourself into potted plants just yet. You need rest."

Ginny said nothing to this at first, but Harry had to suppress a laugh as he watched her face wrestle with the concept. She was a bad patient at the best of times, and the thought of being confined to the hospital wing for any length of time was akin to snogging a blast-ended skrewt. 

"OK," she said quietly, her mutinous expression slowly fading. Her dark eyes swept back to Madam Pomfrey. "But don't think I'm going to enjoy it," she added pointedly, with a trace of her old spirit.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "Having a baby isn't going to change you _that_ much!"

"It certainly isn't," Mrs Weasley laughed, getting to he feet and hunting round for her capacious bag, finally locating it beneath the bed.

"Mum?" 

"It's all right, dear," Mrs Weasley said reassuringly, stooping to kiss her daughter. "I'll be back soon, but your father will never forgive me if I don't go and tell him about his beautiful granddaughter. Besides, I rather think Hope will need some proper clothes; you can't transfigure things for her forever."

"Clothes!" Harry exclaimed. 

There was so much he hadn't thought of. They hadn't even started preparing for this baby, not really. Nothing had been bought for her: no crib, no clothes, nothing. He didn't even know what babies needed. So much for being a good father, he was letting her down already.

"Harry, it's fine," Mrs Weasley smiled at him. "I knew neither of you would be able to do anything, so I've been getting a few bits and pieces together since Christmas. It's enough to start off with, and I can go to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning for the other things she'll need. Stop worrying, and just enjoy her. This time is very special for a new family; don't let anything spoil it." 

Harry nodded gratefully. All he wanted to do was stay with Ginny and Hope, but it was getting late, and Madam Pomfrey was eyeing him meaningfully.

"I won't be long," Mrs Weasley added, pulling her cardigan back on. "Is there anything else you'd like whilst I'm back there?"

"Maybe some banana ice-cream?" Harry teased.

"Not on your life!" Ginny exclaimed vehemently. "If I never see that stuff again it'll be too soon." 

They erupted into roars of laughter, and Hope twisted slightly, her face scrumpling further and becoming redder and redder as she opened her mouth and began to wail. The volume was incredible for one so small, and if Harry hadn't heard it with his own ears he wouldn't have thought it possible. The toothless gums were exposed as one howl blended with the next and then the next. The howls went on for what seemed to be an eternity.

"Shhh!" Ginny tried to reassure her. "Shhh!" Carefully she adjusted her grip on Hope and jiggled her gently up and down, patting her back in time with the motion. Harry watched in awe. It was some kind of magic; it had to be. Slowly the piercing soul-wrenching cries faded, and Hope was soothed and began to settle once more, heavy sleepy eyelids drooping over the emerald-green.

"Back soon," Mrs Weasley whispered, nodding her approval. She tiptoed off towards the hospital wing door.

Harry's mind whirled for a moment, wondering why she was going there, then he remembered Ron and Hermione, who he'd left pacing anxiously outside the hospital wing quite some time before. Ron still had the Portkey. They didn't know about the baby, yet.

Madam Pomfrey had clearly had the same thought and disappeared behind the screen, her heels clicking in a business-like fashion across the floor into the distance. The three of them were left alone.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Harry whispered.

"I will be," she whispered back, smiling up at him. "Although if it hurts that much having a five pound baby, imagine what it'd be like if she had gone to full term." Ginny winced. "I just ache in places I didn't know existed. Imagine pushing a pumpkin out of…"

"I'm sorry," Harry interrupted quickly, wincing himself at the idea. "I mean it's my fault that you…"

"Don't you dare apologise for Hope," Ginny insisted. She regarded him carefully, the dark pools of her eyes as loving as ever. "You don't regret having her, do you?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, instantly reproaching himself for the volume of his voice. Hope stirred. He held his breath. This was going to take some getting used to. "I'll never regret her, just like I'll never regret having you in my life," he whispered, spreading his hand over Ginny's and entwining their fingers. "But, I do need to see Dumbledore about her. Your mum's right, Hogwarts is the safest place right now, but we don't know what Voldemort's going to do. We need protection spells in place as quickly as we can, because he will find out sooner or later, and if he sees her as a threat, then…then…"

"Then we've got to be prepared to ward of the worst," Ginny said softly, the understanding of what they might have to do unspoken between them.

Voices broke through the quietness of the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey clearly assertive, and the lower mumbles of others. The arguing went on, escalating slightly.

"Oh all right then," Madam Pomfrey said with a hint of irritation. "Only for a few minutes, and no excitement for mother or baby. Then it's straight back to your common room. You shouldn't be out of bounds at this time of night anyway. Is that understood?"

There was a mutter of agreement, and the grumbling sounds made their way into clearer focus.

"… Complete and utter git." Ron's tones wafted towards them, making Ginny giggle.

"Shush!" Hermione reproached him. "We got in, didn't we?"

"Only because you had your Head Girl head on," Ron retorted. Harry could almost hear his grin as he mimicked Hermione's voice. "Of course we're responsible. We wouldn't _dream_ of upsetting them. Just a few minutes, please. You know, I was expecting to hear you say you needed to come in to do research for a project."

"Well, it might be something that'll end up in _Hogwarts: A History_," Hermione pointed out, their squabbling ceasing as they came into sight.

There was a moment's pause, both of their eyes magnetically drawn to the tiny bundle in Ginny's arms. Harry watched uncertainty flicker across his best friend's face, and knew just what Ron was thinking. He'd caught himself wondering earlier where Hope had suddenly appeared from, but it was even more of a shock for Ron. Ginny's pregnancy had quite literally been invisible as far as he'd been concerned.

"Come and see," Harry whispered, grinning at them both. "She's asleep again, though."

"Are you sure?" Hermione breathed. "We don't want to intrude."

"You're not!" Ginny's face was wreathed in smiles. "Come in."

They edged their way forwards, and settled in the large armchair beside the bed, regarding the baby with amazement. Ginny moved Hope cautiously so that they could see her.

"She's so tiny," Hermione exclaimed, leaning over for a clearer view. "Look at those little fingers. Ohh! And that hair is definitely Weasley. Ron," she nudged him. "What do you think about your niece? She's lovely, isn't she?"

"It's… it's a _baby_," Ron sounded completely incredulous. He was wide-eyed in disbelief.

"And here was me thinking we'd had a Norwegian Ridgeback," Ginny giggled softly. "How could we have been so stupid, Harry?"

"I didn't mean that," Ron said, floundering for the words he wanted. "I mean, she's _your_ baby. Yours and Harry's. She's a little person. This is real. You're _parents_. _Her _parents. It's… it's…"

"It's going to be all right," Harry said, grinning at Ginny. "We can do this. It's just going to take a bit of getting used to."

"And you've got to get used to things too," Ginny's face lit up in a mischievous grin. "_Uncle _Ron."

"W-What?" Ron stammered, looking quite taken aback at the suggestion. Then a slow grin spread across his face as he regarded Hope. "You know," he said, "I think I _could_ get used to that. She's not going to argue with me about the Canons, is she?"

"Well, you can start practising right now," Ginny chuckled, her eyes sparking with entertainment. "Here's your niece for a while. Be careful, though. You've got to support her head."

"Gin," Ron protested, nervously backing further away into the chair. "I don't do babies. I don't know how to…"

"Then it's time you learnt," Ginny grinned. She eased herself awkwardly out of bed, and gently moved her daughter into her brother's arms, making sure Hope was secure before she backed away.

Ron sat frozen. Abject terror filled his face. Hope lay exactly where Ginny had left her, and Ron was transfixed to the spot, daring to move neither forwards nor back. He clutched the baby in his arms with the same anguished expression for several minutes before she stirred, and Ron uttered a yelp of alarm.

"What do I do?" he panicked. "Ginny?"

"Try rocking her a bit?" his sister suggested, leaving Ron to his fate and retreating back to bed. Harry wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, watching events unfold.

"But she's so small," Ron said in alarm. "I'll hurt her."

"Babies are supposed to be quite resilient," Hermione said briskly. "Anyway, how hard can it be to hold one? I've been reading all about it recently."

"_You_ do it then!" Ron exclaimed in exasperation.

"Fine!" Hermione retorted.

Hope was gingerly handed over to Hermione, who was still tutting at Ron beneath her breath. The weight of the baby settled in her arms and Hermione beamed over at Ron.

"See," she said triumphantly. "There really is nothing to it. It's perfectly simple."

The movement caused Hope to wake and she began to wail fractiously once more, the noise becoming louder and louder. Hermione paled, and she looked wildly around her, almost as if she were looking for an instruction book of what to do next. Meanwhile little Hope was screaming at the top of her lungs and Ginny made to get back out of bed.

"Come on, then," Ron said gently to his niece, rescuing her from Hermione's grasp with a baleful glare. "It's not as bad as all that," he reassured the baby. "I know her hair's a bit scary sometimes, and she insists you do your homework, but you don't have to keep the rules all the time." Hope was gradually calming down, and Harry watched in barely suppressed amusement as Ron continued to talk to her. "I dare say she'll read you bedtime stories from _Hogwarts:A History_, or _Transfiguration for Toddlers, _and if you're really good we might be able to sneak out when she's not watching and head down to the kitchens for banana ice-cream. What do you reckon?"

"I reckon we're going to get him in to baby-sit," Harry muttered in Ginny's ear. She chuckled quietly.

"And as for the stories I could tell you about your mum and dad," Ron smiled down at the baby, "well, they're going to take us quite a few days to get through. Maybe I'll even teach you how to turn your dad's Firebolt pink. You'd like that, wouldn't you? But the main thing you've got to learn is never, ever to trust _anything_ that your Uncles Fred and George give you."

"Or it'll explode and blow your eyebrows off," Ginny explained softly, welcoming her daughter back into her arms. "I expect you'll rather like their joke shop though, especially when you get a bit bigger."

Madam Pomfrey appeared at the foot of the bed and looked sternly at them and then at her watch.

"Mrs Potter and the baby need their rest," she stated in a voice that brooked no opposition. Harry felt a strange thrill run through him to hear someone else addressing Ginny by that title. So far he'd been the only one to do so. "It's been a very traumatic day for both of them, so I suggest you go back up to Gryffindor Tower, where you should have been all along."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, grinning at his sister, and then touching Hope's little fingers. He shook his head. "She's wonderful. I still can't believe this has happened though."

"Sorry for making her cry," a red-faced Hermione said.

"I'm getting the impression that babies do that," Harry chuckled. "She seems to be like me; hates being woken up."

"I can sympathise," Ron agreed. He kissed Ginny. "You take care. No getting up to anything."

"Wish I could," she said gloomily.

"Congratulations," Hermione added, leaning over to hug and kiss her too, but taking care not to get too near the baby. "She's lovely, Harry," she whispered by his ear and kissed him lightly on the cheek, much to his surprise.

"Yeah. See you later, _Dad_," Ron laughed, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder. 

He paused for a split second and with a warm grin, buried him in a brotherly hug. Harry was overwhelmed. This was a family_… his_ family. Ginny and Hope and Ron and… It was almost too much. Emotions welled up inside him, swirling warmly through his veins. Neither he nor Ron were much given to displays of affection, and the last time they had clung to each other had been quite different, seeking refuge from the crippling and incomprehensible pain when they had believed that Ginny was dead. This was different. So different.

"It's great," Ron admitted, looking towards Hope again. "Harry, I'm, well… y'know…"

"Yeah," Harry said gruffly, staring at the floor panels of the hospital wing, and finding them entirely fascinating. "Um -Thanks."

"Come on," Hermione sighed, grabbing Ron's hand and steering him towards the door. "We'll be back tomorrow."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows at Harry.

"You're not doing them any good by staying," she said pointedly. "You need some rest as well, otherwise you'll be no good to them tomorrow."

"A few more minutes?" Harry pleaded, not feeling ready to leave and head back to his dormitory just yet.

"Please?" Ginny begged, smiling up at Madam Pomfrey with the innocently angelic air that always made Harry laugh. The hospital matron relented at once.

"Oh, very well," she said, shaking her head at them. "Not for long."

"I won't be," Harry promised, gently touching Hope again, scarcely able to believe her existence.

Ginny was exhausted, that much was evident once the excitement of her visitors had worn off, so once the baby was settled in her crib, Harry perched on the chair beside her bed and held her hand as she curled up dreamily.

"Love you," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. "I wish I could stay."

"Me too," she sighed, her lids heavy above her eyes. "You will come back in the morning, won't you?"

"Try and stop me," Harry smiled, running his fingers lightly through her red hair, moving it back from her face. "You're amazing, do you know that?"

"Mmm," she chuckled sleepily. "Not as amazing as the Boy who Lived."

"Far more than that," he insisted, knowing what she had given up to be with him. "Far, far more."

"G'night," she murmured, seeking a final kiss before Harry found himself drifting back to Gryffindor Tower, his thoughts and head in a whirl.

*****

Several hours later, Harry lay tossing and turning in bed, unable to fall asleep. His mind was buzzing with the exciting events of the day, the wonderful image of his tiny daughter making him smile to himself through the inky darkness. It was no good; he just couldn't sleep. He slid out of bed and shivered slightly in the chill beyond the covers. He tiptoed past Neville's bed to the window, leaning as far as he could in an attempt to see the hospital wing windows. Owls hooted and flew past the windows on silent wings, black silhouettes against the deep blueness of the sky. Stars glistened: tiny diamonds in the vastness of the universe, stretching out beyond his grasp to infinity.

Instantly he made his mind up. It was against the rules, but he didn't care. He darted back across the room and carefully lifted the lid of his trunk. The plant on the bedside table stirred, swaying its bloom in a menacing fashion, sniffing the air. A rumbling growl emanated from deep within the flower, and it snapped wildly in Harry's direction. Harry leapt backwards, then froze listening carefully, but the regular breathing of the others in the room never faltered. Rummaging quickly through the contents of his trunk, his fingers found what he was looking for. Slippery fabric shifted beneath his touch and he grasped it firmly, shaking out the folds. With a grin, he disappeared under his invisibility cloak before the plant got a chance to see him properly and crept eagerly through the dormitory door. He padded down through the deserted stairwell, into the common room and beyond.

The place was deserted. Armour glinted eerily in the moonlight and Harry hastened through the now familiar corridors, heart swelling with happiness at the thought of seeing them again. A quick peek around the screen in the hospital wing wouldn't do any harm; in fact, no one would even know that he'd been there. He glanced briefly at the Marauders' Map, and saw that Mrs Norris was coming his way. Ducking quickly under a nearby arch, he climbed the narrow wooden stairs and followed a longer route to the hospital wing.

The portraits were mainly dozing in their frames, with the exception of a tiny knight, who was pacing back and forth in his frame. At the slightest sound of Harry's footsteps the knight whirled around, brandishing his sword.

"Halt! Who goes there?" the tiny figure demanded, sweeping his fair hair out of his eyes. Harry recognised Sir Gawain immediately, and suppressed a grin as he silently passed by and rejoined the main stairs up to the hospital wing.

The room was still. Harry quickly closed the door behind him and crept the length of the ward, noting the dim light still shining from Madam Pomfrey's office. Heart beating in anticipation, he smiled to himself. Just a few minutes, and then he'd go back to bed. Before he could move further, a silvery glow shimmered from behind the hospital screen where he'd left Ginny and Hope. A softly muttered phrase was incoherent, and the silvery sheen shattered, falling as stars through the air to further inaudible words. 

Panic filled him. It was a male voice, not Ginny. What was going on? 

Somehow, he forced his legs to work, propelling himself forwards past the screen itself, dreading what he would have to face. The figure was tall, a wizard's hat settled on his head. Harry fumbled for his wand, and gripped it tightly, preparing to throw off the cloak and challenge the wizard before him. The wizard turned slightly. Then Harry saw: Hope was in this intruder's arms. He couldn't. What if she got hurt? But he had to do something.

Desperately, his eyes scanned the dark figure before him, the flowing white beard, the genial smile, and the whiskery kiss he placed on Hope's forehead. Dumbledore. The knowledge flooded through him with a massive sigh of relief as his knees threatened to give way beneath him.

"Well, well," Dumbledore muttered, smiling benevolently down at her. "I dare say you're going to give your parents quite a run for their money, young lady." He touched her forehead affectionately and gently settled her back down into her cot. "Just remember who you are, and your destiny, and all will be well."

Harry just had enough presence of mind to step backwards at the last minute as Dumbledore passed by. He collapsed into the armchair beside the bed, looking through the darkness at his sleeping wife and his daughter, wondering what to make of the scene he had just observed.


	23. Despair

As ever, I'm playing in JKR's toybox. It's great fun! Sorry about the slow arrival of chapters – due to a bad bout of morning sickness. Please leave a review to let me know what you think! Thanks.

Despair

_"In the burrows of the Nightmare  
Where Justice naked is,  
Time watches from the shadow_

_ And coughs when you would kiss."  
  
_

 ~W.H. Auden: "As I Walked Out One Evening."__

"You can't!" Harry said in total horror, looking at the familiar leather bound volume his wife had clutched in her grasp. "Please, Ginny; any spell but that one. Please?"

"But we _know_ this one works," she insisted forcibly. "The others are all too risky." She shook her head, sending her russet hair flying. The rippling flames warned of danger, but Harry ignored it.

"Yes, but at what price?" Harry caught her in his arms and shook her gently. "I can't – I _won't_ let you do it."

"It's not your decision," Ginny's tones escalated with emotion. She pulled herself free and looked directly up at him with an unwavering stare. "It's this one, Harry. It has to be." Echoes of the past burst through the barriers he'd tried to build up in his mind; the voices of his parents in their last moments rang as clearly as if there were a Dementor standing before him. His mum facing down Voldemort, refusing to step aside, knowing the charm was in place to save her son. Her life to save his. He saw the memory of a red-headed figure crumpling lifelessly to the floor as the flash of green light hit to the merciless peal of high-pitched laughter. Ginny. He couldn't let history repeat itself. He couldn't. "No!" His voice seemed to come from somewhere outside him as he moved towards her again, determined to stop this. "Absolutely not. Any other spell you want; use _all_ of the others if you have to, just not…" His voice cracked. 

"She's our _daughter_," Ginny pleaded, her dark eyes curiously liquid in the sunlight. With a jolt, Harry realised that she was close to tears. The hollow ache twisted in his heart: his wife, his daughter... How did Ginny expect him to be able to choose between them? He couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to either of them. If Voldemort attacked and she'd used the same spell that had saved his life when he'd been a baby, then… then… He swallowed; his throat bone dry.

"No," he repeated hoarsely.

"Harry," she cried, flicking through the pages until she came to the spell. "Look at it. It's just another spell, like any other. It's going to protect Hope, that's all."

"But it's not all, is it?" Harry demanded, catching her left hand in his. The silvery scar zigzagged its way across the inside of her wrist, a ghostly echo of his own scar binding them together magically for all eternity. Ginny glanced at it and looked up at him, bewildered. "The incantations in that book aren't your average spells, Ginny," he said quietly. "The power in them is immense, you know that as well as I do. You're talking about doing the brother of that charm you see right there, not one as simple as ours either, but the one that cost my mum her life."

"I know," Ginny squirmed slightly. "Harry, I wish there was another way…"

"There is," Harry said quietly, prising the book from her hand. "Let me do the spell."

There was silence. Ginny's eyes widened. Her breathing was clearly unsteady as she contemplated the idea, trembling beneath his touch.

"You can't do that," she choked at last.

"Why not?" Harry demanded. "Hope's my daughter too and I don't want anything happening to her any more than you do. If you're so sure that this is the best spell to use, then let me use it."

"So it's all right for you to protect her, but not me?" Ginny responded the hurt clearly evident in her voice.

"It's not that," Harry said, with a quick glance over to the cot where his daughter was still sleeping. He chewed his lip, wondering how he was going to explain this to Ginny. There was nothing else for it: he had to try. "Gin, you know Voldemort's after me anyway?" She nodded, her soft brown eyes growing darker with the haunted fear of what they both knew would come. "He's not after you. It's me, and maybe Hope, but we don't even know that for certain. If I'm in danger already and I can protect her with this charm, it's not making things any worse for me, but it makes everything a lot better for you and Hope. If you get involved, then you're putting yourself at risk for no reason."

"I'd hardly call Hope 'no reason'" Ginny murmured.

"She's the best reason there is," Harry admitted, "but all the same, there's no need for you to do this." 

"I'm her _Mum_," Ginny pointed out, pacing restlessly over to the cot, and smiling wistfully down at her baby. Gently, she reached out and touched a feather-down tuft of Hope's bright red hair, a half-smile tugging at her lips. "I want to do it, Harry." She glanced over at him, and cut him off as he was beginning to object. "I know it doesn't make any sense, and it's probably a totally stupid thing to want to do, but you and I have always promised to face the future together, whatever it brings, and I feel the same with Hope. She's been part of me all this time, and I was protecting her inside me until yesterday. She's my baby, and I want to do everything in my power to make sure she's all right."

"I can understand that, but…" Harry began, moving quickly across the room until he was standing right beside them.

"But nothing," Ginny whispered, standing on tiptoes to brush his wayward black hair off his forehead. Gently she traced his scar, sending a shiver down his spine. "I've done it for you, now it's Hope's turn."

"I don't want you to…" Harry swallowed. There was no other way to say this. "I don't want you to die the way my mum did," he admitted, pulling her close to him. He could feel the thud of her heart beating slightly out of time with his own, so reassuring and yet reminding him that all this could be so easily lost.

"I don't want to either," Ginny said, grinning slightly at him. "Harry, we've got the charm bond. Never forget that. Supposing the worst does happen; what's to stop me deflecting the worst of Voldemort's spell onto you? We both know that works."

"I suppose so," Harry said slowly, not liking the idea any better. His mind ranged over the various possibilities. "Unless he's already broken the charm bond by killing me."

"If he's done that, I'd die fighting to save Hope anyway. There's no way he's going to lay so much as a finger on our daughter," Ginny said through gritted teeth, catching his hand in hers. "Please, Harry? Please?" Her chocolate-brown eyes lifted appealingly to his, unshed tears shining in the sunlight. He nodded mutely, not trusting himself to speak. She gave a little muffled sob and flung her arms around him. He buried his head in the depths of her hair, holding her tightly and afraid to let her go.

Eventually they pulled apart, and Harry caressed her face gently, cupping it with the palm of his hand. He couldn't believe he was going to let her do this. A small voice in his mind was screaming wildly at him to stop her, but his words caught in the tightening knot in his throat.

Ginny gathered their sleeping daughter into her arms and settled comfortably in the armchair, the book propped open on the bed next to her. She gazed steadily at Harry for a moment or two, then with a loving kiss of her tiny daughter's forehead she carefully began to weave the spell that would protect Hope, whatever the cost to herself.

*****

A couple of mornings later, Harry was settled at a table in the hospital wing, frowning heavily over a complicated chart, trying to fathom what it all meant. Since Dumbledore had scared him so much on that first night he had been suffering from a slight throbbing in his scar. Harry had refused point blank to leave Ginny and Hope in the hospital wing just in case Voldemort did attack. Much to Madam Pomfrey's wrath he took up residence in the hospital wing, catnapping in the armchair whenever he could and spending a good part of each night relentlessly pacing the ward with a restless Hope. 

His eagle-feather quill tickled the end his nose, making it twitch irritably. He looked up from his task, to see Ginny beginning to undress Hope for her bath.

"How's it going?" she asked him before bending down to coo at the baby again.

"Slowly," he said, feeling rather grumpy. "I hate doing these things. It's no wonder I used to make mine up."

"Birth charts aren't that bad," Ginny laughed, easing Hope's arm through her sleepsuit and fluttering kisses on her nose.

"This one is," Harry said fervently. "It's worse than mine."

"Nothing can be worse than yours," Ginny teased.

"Want to have a bet on that?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows. He watched her wrap Hope closely in a soft, fluffy towel and smiled. "Her birth chart is pretty dramatic, and everything seems to be swinging to one extreme or the other. If I've got it right, she looks like she's going to be quite a little character."

"Any sign of Truitinae Bonitas?" Ginny asked anxiously, peering at the parchment over his shoulder. She rubbed Hope's back in a soothing manner and rocked her slightly.

"I don't think so," Harry frowned, and pointed to one small section of the chart. "I thought that was it for a while, but it's not the same as mine, is it?" He hauled his own out of his school bag by his feet and unrolled it to let Ginny see. She studied the two carefully for a while and then shook her head.

"No, it's not," she agreed. Her lips spread into a wide grin. "That's some good news anyway. Maybe Voldemort won't be interested in Hope after all."

"He shouldn't be," Harry said, poring back over his daughter's chart again. "It means he'll be focused on me as the last of the Potter line." He shot a quick grin up at his wife. "No change there then."

"No," she agreed, ruffling his hair affectionately before she headed through to Madam Pomfrey's office to collect her mother for Hope's bath.

Harry was immensely grateful that Mrs Weasley was there during the daytime to help them so much with Hope. They were both learning a colossal amount about how to care for a baby and it was considerably harder than they had expected. No one had ever warned him just how tired caring for such a small baby would make him; they hadn't warned him about the nappies either, come to think of it. Harry wrinkled his nose at the memory, and made a mental note to find some effective air freshening spells as soon as he could.

He bent back over the chart and deciphered more of his daughter's personality. The splash of water in the background and outraged wails of protest informed him clearly that Hope was in the bath. Before he had a chance to look up, a section of the chart caught his eye and he burst out into fits of laughter.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, somewhat breathlessly.

"Something you'll never guess in a million years about your daughter," Harry chuckled. "She's apparently possessive and stubborn with a temper she's going to find difficult to control."

"A proper Weasley trait," Mrs Weasley chuckled, "just like someone else I could mention." 

Ginny flushed, and then giggled herself. Hope squirmed more in her mother's grasp and both Ginny and Mrs Weasley turned back to the task in hand, gently washing Hope before lifting her out and patting her dry. Mrs Weasley left Ginny to dress Hope on her own, and took the dirty laundry away.

The Hospital Wing door clicked open and a set of footsteps down the length of the ward heralded the arrival of Professor McGonagall. Her sharp eyes scanned the screened off area and her normally stern face broke into a smile at the sight of little Hope. Ginny was struggling to fasten her nappy, but now that she was dry again, Hope had at least stopped crying.

"How are things?" Professor McGonagall asked briskly, sitting down on the end of the bed.

"We're all doing OK, thanks," Ginny said, turning slightly pink. "Stuck in here for ages yet, though," she added gloomily. She finally got the nappy on and began to dress Hope.

"Yes. I hear Mr Potter has taken up permanent residence here as well," Professor McGonagall added, staring sternly in Harry's direction. Harry gulped.

"I don't want them on their own," he explained uneasily. "You know, with Voldemort and everything."

"Quite," Professor McGonagall said abruptly. "Potter, I can understand your feelings but I think we need to reach some sort of a compromise. You've had a few days off from classes, which has been perfectly fair given recent events, but you do have your Wizarding Life Skills course left to complete."

"But…" Harry began. Professor McGonagall lifted her hand to silence him.

"Mrs Potter is excused from lessons until September," she explained clearly. "You are not. I shall, however, turn a blind eye to your absence in your dormitory overnight if you are present for all your classes during the day."

"It's Waste of… er… I mean, Wizarding Life Skills," Harry moaned. "I'm learning as much here as I would be in lessons. I hardly think Snape's going to teach me childcare, is he?"

"_Professor _Snape," Professor McGonagall corrected him automatically. Harry could see Ginny turning puce with trying not to laugh at the thought of Snape teaching lessons on how to change nappies. "No, I believe the current lessons are magical cookery; something your little family may find very useful once you move into a house of your own."

"It's a good point, Harry," Ginny broke into the conversation. "I haven't got a clue about how to cook anything except profiteroles."

"Profiteroles?" Harry echoed in amazement. That sounded more like something from one of Aunt Petunia's posh dinner parties than something he would have expected to find at The Burrow.

"Yeah," Ginny giggled, fastening the last of Hope's buttons. "I found the recipe in one of Mum's old Witch Weekly's, and I got her to teach me how to do them. That was years ago though."

"We could live on those," Harry laughed. "You never know; it might be rather nice. It's definitely worth a try."

"We'll _starve_ if you don't learn how to cook," she teased, passing Hope to him for a while. "I know you don't want to leave here, but we do have to learn how to survive on our own. I'll show you the baby bits I've found out when you get back here at night."

"I suppose there's only another week or so," Harry said slowly, "and your Mum's here and so is Madam Pomfrey…"

"Exactly," Professor McGonagall said bracingly. She glanced at her watch and stood up. "I expect to hear you've been at lessons this afternoon, Potter." With a final smile down at the baby, she swept out of the room.

*****

The afternoon arrived far too quickly for Harry, and with a reluctant glance back over his shoulder at the two women in his life, he shouldered his school bag and trudged down the stairs into the thronging school halls. He pushed his way through the milling crowds of students, watching out for any sign of Ron and Hermione. He was acutely aware of heads turning to stare at him, fingers pointing and whispered muttering as he passed by. He fell the heat of the dull red flush of embarrassment spread up the back of his neck. Good news had evidently travelled fast. 

Gritting his teeth, he ignored them all pointedly and wove his way through the throng to the stairwell, heading down the grand marble staircase towards the entrance hall. It felt distinctly odd to be here with school life rattling on as normal around him, yet knowing that Ginny and Hope were upstairs. 

He was just about to turn into the passageway that led to the Hogwarts kitchens, when he heard a familiar drawling voice coming from behind him.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Potter's finally come out of hiding, has he?"

Harry whirled round and glared furiously at Draco Malfoy. That was all he needed. Absence definitely hadn't made the heart grow fonder as far as Malfoy was concerned.

"What was that?" Harry growled.

"I can't say I blame you for keeping things hidden," Malfoy said, beginning to smile maliciously. "After all if I'd been stupid enough to sleep with a Weasley, I wouldn't want anyone to know about it either. Can you imagine everyone knowing you were desperate enough to do _that_?"

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Ginny like that," Harry spat, the white-hot anger surging though his veins. "She's everything you could only dream of being, Malfoy. Honest, good, kind…"

"Poor," Malfoy pointed out superciliously. "Oh yes. I suppose she's played you very cleverly." He gave a short laugh. "I suppose with that child of yours she's spawned, she's the only Weasley guaranteed of a secure financial future. I suppose there had to be some incentive for her to sleep with you." He looked Harry up and down with a sneering expression. "Although I wouldn't have thought even a Weasley would be that desperate."

The blood pounded violently in Harry's ears relentlessly beating time to Hermione's age old warning _"Ig-NORE- him,_ _ig-NORE- him…"_ His fists clenched tightly by his side as he shook with fury.

"Jealousy, is it, Malfoy?" he growled, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "I suppose even Crabbe and Goyle have turned _you_ down. Moaning Myrtle might be glad to oblige, she's pretty desperate, but you'd have to be dead for that." He stared at Malfoy, hatred boiling in his heart. "That might easily be arranged."

"Idle threats, Potter," Malfoy scoffed. "With a bit of luck you might be able to brush that bastard of yours under the carpet and…"

Harry never found out quite what Malfoy had intended to say next. The insult to his daughter was more than he could bear, and before he knew what was happening his fist had made a satisfyingly painful thunk against Malfoy's jaw, knocking them both off balance and sending them sprawling to the floor.

"Never… _never _say that… about my wife… or daughter," Harry panted, doing his level best to pound the sneer off Malfoy's face and through the solid stone flooring into the dungeons beneath.

"Harry!"

Two pair of hands grabbed his robes and forcibly hauled him to his feet. Harry twisted frantically swinging against those who held him.

"He's not worth it, Harry," Hermione's voice pleaded. "Let it go."

"But he was saying… stuff… about Ginny… Hope," Harry gasped, struggling to fling himself at Malfoy again before he escaped completely. The blood was gushing from Malfoy's nose as Crabbe and Goyle helped him to his feet.

"Oh was he now," Ron's eyes narrowed and he let go of Harry's robes. He took a meaningful step towards Malfoy, his own face flushing angrily.

"Ron!" Hermione caught his arm. Harry saw the unspoken conversation between them.

"Yes," Malfoy sneered, his voice muffled by the large handkerchief he clutched to his bleeding nose. "Do as your girlfriend tells you, there's a good boy."

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Hermione said coldly. "You should know better than picking fights in the corridors by now, Malfoy. There's a lesson you should be going to."

Without another word, she turned and headed through the doors to the stone passageway that led to the Hogwarts kitchens. Harry and Ron followed her, not saying a word until the door had closed behind them.

"What did that complete and utter git say this time?" Ron burst out furiously.

"Same as usual," Harry mumbled rubbing his cheek, and feeling the tenderness of the bruise that was starting to form. "Decided to have a go at Ginny and Hope though."

"Well, you should have expected it," Hermione said bracingly, shaking her head. "We all know what he's like, and you can imagine what the school's been buzzing with these past few days. Some of the rumours have been incredible, you have no idea."

"I can imagine," Harry said with a shudder, knowing full well what sort of rumours had been spread about him in the past. 

They rounded the corner and joined the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years, lined along the length of the wall beside the painting of the bowl of fruit. At the sight of Harry, they clustered around him in a babble of excited questions.

"So it is true," Parvati gasped, lifting Harry's left hand. His wedding ring glinted in the soft candelight of the passageway. Harry felt himself flushing.

"Yes," he admitted quietly. "I married Ginny in October."

"And a baby?" Lavender asked, eager for news.

"A baby girl. Hope," Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Oooh!" the girls said in delighted unison, suddenly dissolving into puddles of mush and bombarding him with hundreds of questions. Dean, Seamus and Neville grinned over at him.

"Good to have you back," Seamus muttered as the kitchen door swung open and Professor McGonagall ushered them through the doorway. 

The kitchen contained some House Elves, who clustered around the door, bowing low as they entered, but there were nowhere near as many as there usually were in the kitchen. They had clearly been sent to perform tasks elsewhere to allow the lesson to progress. Harry felt Hermione tense beside him. Much as Dumbledore had tried, the House Elves at Hogwarts still refused to take pay or holidays, with the exception of Dobby and Winky and one or two others who had been clothed.

He followed Ron and Hermione to one of the smaller tables at the side of the room and listened to Professor McGonagall's introduction of a very nervous house elf. She stood on a stool, stammering slightly and relentlessly twisting her Hogwarts tea towel in her hands as she explained a few simple cookery spells to the assembled students.

"Well, how hard can that be?" Ron exclaimed once they were set onto the task of preparing a meal. "Mum does it all the time. Peel the potatoes, cook and mash them. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Do I need to remind you about what happened with that carrot last time?" Hermione teased, rolling her sleeves up and flexing her wand. She craned her neck at the rack of shining pots and pans above their heads and burst out laughing. "It's still up there!"

"No!" Ron exclaimed in total horror.

Harry chuckled to himself and offered to try his hand at the potatoes himself. He checked the spell book carefully and lifted his wand.

_"Ablutum holus,"_ he said, concentrating hard on the small pile of potatoes and willing them across to the sink. The potatoes shot off at top speed, zooming in a wall-of-death spectacular fashion around the walls of the kitchen, making a circuit of the enormous room. Once, twice, three times, past Neville's pile of tap dancing sprouts and finally dropped into the sink where they began to jump up and down vigorously washing themselves. 

Harry took a deep breath. That wasn't so bad. He pointed his wand at a small knife on the bench and cringed slightly. _"Delibrum holus,"_ At once the potatoes leapt across the bench, twirling as they passed by the knife and shed their skins. A massive crashing noise caused Harry to lose his concentration, the potatoes cannoned into mid air and came zooming down again, pelting Ron from head to foot. A quick glance around the kitchen made him laugh. The same had obviously happened to the rest of the class: Dean Thomas was dripping from head to foot in gravy and Parvati was squealing as she ran away from a batch of energetic Yorkshire puddings.

Suddenly Harry hissed in a breath of pain and clapped his hand to his forehead, his scar burning more badly than it had done in a long time.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Scar," Harry muttered, looking from her to Ron, his head pounding madly."Something's happening. That crash in the hallway. What was that? I knew I shouldn't have left Ginny and Hope. I knew it."

"Stay here, all of you," Professor McGonagall commanded crisply, and drawing her wand, she crossed through the remnants of the food towards the entrance.

The door to the kitchen crashed open, bouncing noisily against the wall. Screams of laughter turned to fearful silence fell as a small group of darkly cloaked and hooded figures advanced into the room, wands outstretched.


	24. Circle of Time

A/N: Thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter. Being ill is not a lot of fun! Some lines in this chapter are taken directly from "Prisoner of Azkaban" for Harry's Dementor memories of his parents. These can be found on page 134, UK edition. A few lines have been adapted slightly from similar memories on page 178, UK edition. Both are italicised.  
  
Circle of Time  
  
"The wheel is come full circle."  
  
~Shakespeare: 'King Lear'  
  
  
  
The silence in the room was tangible as the darkly cloaked figures advanced step by step. Harry gripped his wand tightly, questions cannoning through his mind. This couldn't be happening, not now of all times. What on earth was he doing down here, leaving Ginny and Hope vulnerable and unprotected in the hospital wing several floors above? He knew what was at stake: he shouldn't have left them, not for a second.  
  
He glanced frantically around the room trying to work out how to escape, but there were no doorways other than the one to the storeroom and the usual door into the corridor that was blocked by the hooded figures. Death Eaters. How had the Hogwarts defences been breached? That was supposed to be impossible. What wouldn't he give to hear Hermione saying, "You can't Apparate into Hogwarts. I read it in 'Hogwarts: A History'." Yet he could feel her tensed against his arm. This was surreal. It was incredible.  
  
Screams and the stampede of feet rumbled along the corridors above them, bringing with it the shock of reality. This was it; the thing they had all been dreading. If Hogwarts fell, then… then… this was the end for all of them.  
  
"Yield," a low rasping voice emanated from the tall figure in the centre of the group of darkly hooded figures. "The castle is under siege. Throw down your wands and all will be well."  
  
"We most certainly will not," Professor McGonagall retorted brusquely. A brief nervous glance was cast across the students in her care before she lifted her head high and regarded the group of Death Eaters with the expression of loathing that would have had the entirety of Gryffindor House fleeing voluntarily down to the dungeons and begging for a lifetime of detentions with Snape rather than upset her further. "I'm afraid if you think that, you seriously underestimate us."  
  
"Don't be a fool, woman," the voice hissed, a long, bony hand stealthily emerging from the dark robes. Harry stared in fascination at the pallor of the ghostly flesh, watching the fingers lightly manipulating the wand that could kill them all. "You cannot win. The Dark Lord will conquer you all… by fair means or foul."  
  
A chill shivered through Harry's veins as these last words shattered through the stillness. The foul means he knew all too well; most of them did by now. He cast his eyes around the others he had spent the past seven years with: pale, resolute, shaking. They all knew what this meant and what they had to do. He saw Parvati reach cautiously behind Seamus to collect her wand from the work surface, concealing it swiftly beneath her robes. After what they'd done to her brother, Harry wasn't surprised to see the expression of sheer loathing on her face.  
  
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, blocking the path of the Death Eaters.  
  
"Kindly leave," she said, her lips pinched together in disapproving anger. "Before I am obliged to remove you."  
  
A mocking laugh rang out from the foremost Death Eater, his hooded head jerking scathingly towards Professor McGonagall. She was far smaller than the three figures that seemed to tower over her, yet she stood ramrod- straight, fixing the one who had spoken with her penetrating gaze.  
  
"And don't think I can't do it, Angus Fraser," she said crisply. There was a sharp intake of breath as the concealed figure heard his identity spoken aloud. Professor McGonagall continued, her voice never once wavering, "You were never very good at duelling even when you were here. I doubt your association with Voldemort has improved your talents in the slightest, although I must admit that I was expecting you to aim a little higher in life than performing acts of mindless cruelty on children."  
  
"Yield and there will be no action taken," the low voice muttered mutinously. "The Dark Lord will rule."  
  
"Never," Professor McGonagall hissed, and before any of them had realised what was happening, her wand flicked upwards quickly, the point jabbing painfully into his throat. "One false move and…"  
  
"And your students will pay the price," a rumbling growl reverberated round the stillness of the room. A sharp squeal pierced the air, as Lavender Brown was roughly seized by the hooded figure on the left. She struggled violently against him, kicking and twisting in a desperate attempt to free herself, but to no avail. The class stood frozen in a sort of tableau, frantically trying to work out what on earth they could do next.  
  
The tiny house elf, who had been teaching their lesson, was sobbing uncontrollably, twisting her tea towel in her hands and shaking with sheer terror.  
  
"Shut up," one of the men growled at her, but her sobbing simply intensified. "I said, 'Shut up!'" he yelled again, muttering something incomprehensible beneath his breath. Suddenly a bright beam of violet light blasted from the end of his wand and hit the elf square in her stomach, lifting her high into the air and spinning her round. Her sobs grew into shrieks of terror as she was twisted faster and faster, a smile of satisfaction playing across the Death Eater's lips. He twitched his wand and she shot towards the wall, stopping just short of smashing into it with a sickening thump. She began to spin again, mercilessly controlled by the magic.  
  
"Stop it!" Hermione burst out at the top of her lungs, unable to bear it any longer. "Let her go!"  
  
"Stop it, you say?" the voice filled with maliciousness. "Very well." The magic beam carried the elf higher and higher into the vaulted ceiling of the kitchen, and suddenly ceased. With a shrill scream the elf plummeted towards the cold flagstones beneath and certain death, her hands frantically flailing in front of her.  
  
"Why isn't she using her magic?" Hermione gasped. There seemed to be no answer to this, and they watched in horror as the tiny figure descended in slow motion to her inevitable doom. At that particular moment, Lavender collapsed limply in her captor's arms, causing him to stagger and lurch forwards, momentarily losing his balance. It was enough. Lavender bit down as hard as she could on her assailant's hand, making him yell out in pain, and drop his wand.  
  
A nod from Professor McGonagall was all that was needed, and the entirety of the Gryffindor seventh years sprang into action. Their practical sessions with Dumbledore in Defence Against the Dark Arts had certainly paid off as hex after hex flew across the kitchen at the small group of Death Eaters, making them writhe in anguish across the floor. The leader collapsed after failing to block a well-aimed jelly-legs jinx from Neville, and was swiftly set upon by Seamus and Dean.  
  
At length, the figures were neatly trussed, and frozen in time until they could be dealt with by the proper authorities. Professor McGonagall spirited their bodies away to the store cupboard at the rear of the kitchen and sealed the door with a spell. It was only then that Harry noticed the tiny elf clinging for safety to Hermione's legs, still sobbing her heart out.  
  
"How on earth…?" Harry began.  
  
"Cushioning charm," she grinned, rolling her eyes at him before gently prising the house elf away from her. "Flitwick's classes do come in useful sometimes, you know."  
  
Celebrations of victory were short lived as they heard the frightened stampede of feet continuing on the floor above them. Evidently there were more Death Eaters elsewhere in the castle... or worse… Harry's scar throbbed and his heart plummeted.  
  
"I've got to get up to the Hospital Wing," he shouted over his shoulder, already halfway to the door.  
  
"Us too," Ron echoed, with Hermione following right behind him. "Harry's not going anywhere on his own in this."  
  
"Quite right," Professor McGonagall exclaimed. "Just go! Don't hang around waiting for permission. Go on! And as for the rest of us, let's get out there and do what needs to be done."  
  
The stone corridor was plunged into total darkness. Not a single candle flickered in the sconces that lined the walls. Hermione began muttering, "Lumos," when Harry caught her hand.  
  
"We don't want to be seen," he hissed, beginning to feel his way along the length of the corridor, already plotting out the fastest route back to Hope and Ginny in his head. His heart was hammering nervously in his chest, breathing unsteady as he picked up his pace, stumbling up the a few steps in the darkness.  
  
"Marble staircase?" Ron asked in an undertone as they neared the end of the passageway.  
  
"Has to be," Harry admitted, feeling sick to the pit of his stomach. "It'll take too long going round the other way. The Death Eaters will he heading right for them…"  
  
"Come on," Hermione urged, stepping quickly forward into the unknown.  
  
The shouts and cries were far clearer as they edged their way into the entrance hall and a sudden chill descended. The foyer was slightly lighter than the pitch darkness of the corridor, but the shadowy realm was far darker than it should have been in a summer afternoon. No sunlight streamed in through the windows and it was like they were entirely cut off from the world. The noises from above seemed to cease like the flicking of a switch. Hermione shivered.  
  
They edged forwards momentarily. Harry's ears pricked up as he instantly recognised a distant noise; the sickening rattle of a long slow intake of breath. The chill of the air plummeted even further as a towering black shadow began to drift down the marble staircase towards them. A second shadow, a third, a fourth... Harry felt the intense cold sweep through his body, screams beginning to swim around in his head from the past, dragging him further and further down.  
  
'Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry.'  
  
He fought back the voices, thinking of holding his daughter in his arms for the first time. If that wasn't a happy memory, Harry didn't know what was. Hermione whimpered as the three of them backed away, standing against opposite walls, wands focused on the creatures.  
  
"Harry, you aim for the back, you should be able to see that far from there. Hermione, do the front. I'll try the middle. Wait until they're closer and we can get a good aim," Ron muttered. "You ok?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione's voice came out as a strangled squeak, and Harry suddenly remembered the trouble she had had conjuring a Patronus in class. She was shaking ferociously as the figures advanced, the coldness intensifying with every second that passed. Voices from past horrors rang with ever- increasing clarity in his head.  
  
"You love him, you say? Enough to die for?"  
  
High-pitched, merciless laughter taunted at him as Ginny's screams of torment filled every part of his being. He clung tightly to the idea of Hope and Ginny. They were a family. They had a future to live. Together.  
  
A shadowy hand of rotting, scabbed flesh began to protrude from one cloak as the Dementors reached them. The hissing, rattling breath reeking of the grave filled the air.  
  
"Now!" Ron gasped.  
  
1 "Expecto Patronum," Harry yelled with all his might, and at once the silvery stag erupted from the tip of his wand, charging down the Dementor he had focused on with more severity than ever. Harry watched in awe as Ron's knight on horseback joined the fray, slicing at another Dementor with its sword until it buckled and began to retreat.  
  
"Expecto Patro…Expecto p… Expec…" Hermione was whispering, trying desperately to fight off the despair consuming her. Her legs gave way and she sank downwards to the floor, the dark creature looming over her.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron yelled from across the room, glancing anxiously at his own Patronus, willing it to return more quickly. "Come on, you can do this. I love you."  
  
Hermione lifted her face to the Dementor, shaking badly and struggled to lift her wand.  
  
"Expecto Patronum," she said distinctly, and a silvery sheen shot out of her wand, mist-like at first and making the Dementor stagger backwards. Slowly the fragments took shape, not of 'Hogwarts: A History,' as they had always teased her it would be, but of a lion. It pounded on silent silvery paws and leapt straight at the Dementor, mauling at it and mercilessly hunting it down. The Dementors vanished, leaving them breathless in relief as the silvery figures returned home.  
  
"Hermione," Ron gasped, running across the entrance hall to the unconscious figure slumped across the floor. He knelt quickly beside her, checking her breathing and reassuring himself that she was really all right. "Come on, Hermione!" he urged. She stirred slightly in his arms. "Wake up. You were brilliant, you know that?"  
  
"Is she ok?" Harry asked anxiously, glancing up the stairwell once more.  
  
"Think so," Ron said and rummaged through his pockets, emerging victorious with a somewhat squashed chocolate frog.  
  
"I've got to…" Harry began, rubbing fractiously at his scar and then gesturing towards the marble staircase.  
  
Ron nodded quickly.  
  
"Just get Ginny and Hope out of here," he said frantically, breaking off a piece of chocolate and throwing it at Harry. "We'll catch up as soon as we can."  
  
Harry paused for just long enough to swallow the chocolate and see Hermione's eyelashes begin to flutter open. He ignored his trembling knees and charged up the stairs three at a time, reassuring himself that Hermione would be fine. Rounding the corner, he listened to the noises that surrounded him in the darkness and shyed away from the darkest corners where dangers could be lurking.  
  
The landing appeared to be deserted, corridors stretching out darkly in both directions. He didn't know which was worse: the terrified screams from earlier, or this new and deadly silence. He stealthily made his way forwards, wand gripped tightly in his outstretched hand, checking behind him at every opportunity for suspected attacks. His heart pounded madly in his ears, drumming his fears in a regular rhythm.  
  
"Constant vigilance!" Moody's voice from years before seemed to bellow in his mind. His foot encountered an obstacle lying darkly on the floor and as he bent to investigate, he felt warm breath brushing across the back of his neck. He turned quickly. Who? No one was there. His eyes scanned the shadowy corridor. Nothing. Once again he turned his attention to the thing on the floor, startled to discover it was a person. He couldn't make out the features in the darkness, but he knew the familiar feel of Hogwarts robes and the clammy feel of death under his touch. He bowed his head.  
  
"Out of the way, Potter!" a harsh voice rent the air. Harry's Quidditch reflexes automatically dived sideways without a second thought, and a brightly coloured shaft of light pierced the air, hitting the point right where he had been.  
  
"W-What?" he cried, scrambling quickly back to his feet.  
  
"Lumos," the voice muttered grimly, and a small beam of light pierced the darkness. The original body was there, a Hufflepuff student felled in the act of flight, but there was something more. A hooded Death Eater had crumpled on the floor, where Harry had been standing merely seconds before, a silver knife glittering in the wand-light. The hooded cloak steamed from the magical spell, and Harry watched wordlessly as a tall shadowy shape, with a familiar hooked nose stepped forwards, and unceremoniously kicked the Death Eater onto his back with his foot. The sliver of light illuminating a face that looked like an older version of Goyle, one of Malfoy's gorillas.  
  
There was a sudden noise, and Snape extinguished the light without a word, pushing Harry behind him and backing away from the direction in which he'd come.  
  
"Get ready," he muttered. "Don't mess this up, Potter. Even you have to be capable of doing something right. When I say 'Go', you get up to that Hospital Wing without stopping and without looking back. None of your stupid heroics this time, understand me?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry breathed, his scar burning more fiercely than ever. The pair of them moving ever further backwards, nearer to the stairwell that Harry needed. Snape was breathing heavily, every ounce of his being focused on something in front of them. Silhouettes came into focus, moving purposefully along the corridor towards them. Twenty feet away. Fifteen. Ten.  
  
They stopped.  
  
"Go!" Snape growled, and Harry sped off to the stairwell, disappearing into it just as the light flashed on brightly in the hallway he had left behind.  
  
"Severus, my friend," a voice, that chilled him to the very core, said loftily. "It has been too long. Far too long."  
  
Harry paused briefly, wondering about going back to help, but his promise echoed in his mind.  
  
"Let me remind you, my old friend, of what we do to traitors," the cold voice went silkily on. "Crucio!"  
  
Screams combined with merciless laughter rent the air, slowing Harry's steps, yet somehow he managed to force himself on, spiralling higher and higher. Glancing down towards the Hospital Wing, it was deserted. Harry ran, desperate to reach Ginny and Hope, and petrified of what he might find. He couldn't be too late. He couldn't.  
  
Sounds of furious fighting reached his ears as he passed the top of the Transfiguration corridor, but he couldn't stop. There would be time enough to go back, once he made sure his wife and daughter were safe. Hogwarts wasn't going to fall, not if he could do anything about it. He sensed someone behind him and increased his speed.  
  
At last the door was in sight and he sprinted towards it, flinging it open and diving through. It clashed shut behind him. Ginny swung round to face him, looking very perplexed, Hope clutched tightly in her arms.  
  
"What's happening, Harry?" she gasped, her dark brown eyes looking anxiously up at him. "There were screams. Mum and Madam Pomfrey went to find out what was going on and they haven't come back. My scar's hurting…"  
  
Harry fought for breath and jerked his head at the blue poetry book on the table. Ginny's Portkey back to the Burrow. Voldemort was here. She had to use it. Now.  
  
2  
  
3 "Ginny, take Hope and run! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off…"  
  
The door burst open and a cackle of high-pitched laughter filled the room. 


	25. When Time Stood Still

A/N: Thanks for waiting so patiently for this one. Hope it was worth it. As ever, I'm tampering with JKR's world and characters, but I'll give them a nice cup of hot chocolate and send them back intact! Please leave a review if you're reading. Only one chapter left to go…  
  
  
  
  
  
When Time Stood Still  
  
"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers."  
  
~ Shakespeare: "Henry V"  
  
*****  
  
Harry whipped round, terror gripping his heart with vice-like fingers and squeezing the breath out of him completely. The tall figure was wreathed in shadows, but there was no mistaking him. Even without the burning pain rooted deep within his forehead he knew. This was it. The thing he had been dreading.  
  
The silence crackled, and Harry adjusted his grip on his wand, feeling it slipping between his clammy fingers. He snatched a quick glance back over his shoulder, willing Hope and Ginny to be gone, but they weren't. Ginny stood rooted to the spot, clutching Hope tightly to her, staring mesmerised across the room.  
  
"Come on, Ginny," he muttered to himself. The Port Key lay untouched on the table. She had to go. She'd be safe in The Burrow. Hope would be safe. One touch of the book and they'd be gone. They couldn't stay, or else…  
  
"The boy is mine, and mine alone," the high-pitched voice dictated coldly. A figure moved stealthily out of the corner and away from the hooded shapes around him, slowly gliding nearer. The pallor of the tautened skin was revealed, red slits of eyes glowing with merciless glee as he surveyed the scene. The narrowed lips parted, a slivered forked tongue shooting out, moistening the area with relish.  
  
"So…" the syllable came out as a low hiss, delight evident in the lilt of the word. "What have we here? The Potter family? How very touching of you to go to all that effort to remind me of history, Harry. A thoughtful tribute to your parents. Such a shame you've done all this in vain."  
  
"It's going to be different this time," Harry growled, glaring at the wizard before him. He stood his ground, doing his level best to block the path to his wife and daughter. What was Ginny doing? They'd talked about this. She had to go. They couldn't risk anything hurting Hope. He shot another frantic look over his shoulder. They were still there.  
  
"It will be different this time, you're right," Voldemort said loftily, a smile playing across his lips. "This time there will be no escape; not for you," he paused, his eyes roaming from Harry to Ginny and Hope. "Not for any of you. This time is final."  
  
"What makes you so certain of that?" Harry shot back, sounding a lot braver than he felt. His knees had turned to jelly, but part of his brain was telling him that he had to play for time to let them escape; he had to keep Voldemort talking. "There could be any sorts of enchantments we've used to keep our baby safe."  
  
"Do you really believe I hadn't considered that?" A peel of cold, high- pitched laughter pierced the air. "Since your good friend, Mr Creevey, was generous enough to inform me of the impending arrival of the next Potter, all possibilities have been taken into account. I have no wish to be torn from my body in such agony again. Indeed, it would not be a wizard worthy of power that did not take his past mistakes into account."  
  
"C-Colin?" Ginny choked out painfully. "Colin told you?"  
  
"It took some time," Voldemort's eyes glowed, "but he saw sense in the end and told us everything we needed to know. They always do. Such a shame he discovered what was good for him… a little too late."  
  
There was a pause as the meaning behind the satisfaction in Voldemort's tone sank in. Harry stared at him aghast. A gasp told him that Ginny had understood too, and his eyes riveted on her. She had turned sheet-white, her dark eyes glittering as she glared at the Dark Lord, swaying slightly.  
  
"You… you killed him," she accused. Voldemort laughed coldly.  
  
"Hardly much of a loss," he sneered. "The boy was a Gryffindor with the pathetic bravado that always goes with it, but he was hardly the hero type. It's amazing what memory charms can do to a person when you probe deeply enough into the workings of their mind. If only he'd learnt to tell us the truth when we first asked, perhaps he would have lived. As it was…" He elevated his shoulders in a casual shrug.  
  
Harry bit his lip and stared down at the carpet, imagining the horrors of what they must have done to Colin, his heart sinking like lead. How many more deaths was he going to cause? His parents, Cedric, Wormtail, Colin… The old miseries surged back with a feeling of defeat. Harry caught himself just in time. No. He couldn't think like this. He had Hope and Ginny, and a future. He had to put a stop to this, one way or another, while he had a chance.  
  
His head snapped upwards quickly, until he was glaring at Voldemort with new hatred surging through his veins.  
  
"He's more of a loss than you will ever be," he growled, raising his wand and preparing himself to fight.  
  
"Oh, Harry, Harry!" Voldemort shook his head sorrowfully. "You don't really think you can still win, do you? Don't be foolish. You know you can never succeed. Come and join me. We can be great together and your family will live. After all, it would be such a pity if you lost another family so quickly after finding one."  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"Look at them, Harry," the high-pitched voice hissed suggestively. "Join me and not a single hair of their heads will be harmed. Join me and they will live."  
  
Harry swallowed hard, looking at his wife and daughter. Ginny was still pale, but her jaw was set that that determined angle he knew so well. There was no need for the almost imperceptible shake of her head for him to know what she was thinking. It was a leap into the unknown, but they'd stop Voldemort's rule of cruelty, or die trying.  
  
Raised voices sounded beyond the hospital wing door and a commotion broke through the prickling tension in the room. Something was going on outside. Fighting in the hallway. Harry's spirits rose.  
  
"Never!" he bellowed, covering Voldemort with his wand, his nerves coiled like tightly wound springs. "Ginny! Get Hope out of here! Now!"  
  
There was no movement.  
  
"Go!" he yelled with all his might, wondering if she hadn't heard him.  
  
"No," the word was barely a whisper, but it carried with it every ounce of determination that she possessed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her cuddling Hope closer, and drawing her wand out of her robes. "I promised you two years ago that we'd see things through together, and that's just what I'm going to do."  
  
Harry felt his stomach flip over at her words.  
  
"How very… touching," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes narrowing further as the slit he had for a mouth stretched into a smile of satisfaction. "I wonder, who would enjoy the pleasure most of watching the other die? Or perhaps, I should start with your child." His arm extended, his long white spidery fingers reaching out to Hope. Ginny snatched her away, pointing her wand at him.  
  
"Never come near my daughter," she snapped fiercely, backing away until she was pressed against the wall  
  
"You cannot stop me," Voldemort said, his mirthless smile widening as his spindly fingers raised his own wand in their direction. Ginny gave a piercing scream, her face screwed up in abject agony as she buckled towards the ground, tightening her grip around her daughter and wrapping her own body protectively around Hope's. Harry started towards her, wondering what was happening. It wasn't a curse, their charm bond wasn't working to share the pain. So what was it?  
  
"Don't move, Harry," the cold voice cut through his thoughts like steel. Harry ignored him, taking another step forwards. Ginny squealed more loudly in pain.  
  
"What are you doing to her?" he whirled round, challenging him with his wand.  
  
There was no response.  
  
Ginny was kneeling on the floor by now, shaking but still clinging onto Hope. She managed to lift her head, russet tresses spilling over her shoulder and stared defiantly at the tall figure before her.  
  
"I will never give her to you," she spat.  
  
"No?" the smile widened, and his wand twitched. "Are you sure?"  
  
The scream was blood-curdling. Harry dived towards her, attempting to put himself between whatever charm this was and Ginny. Yet, he felt nothing. Ginny was writhing as the pain intensified, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He looked wildly about him, desperate for help.  
  
"Ginny?" he begged.  
  
"Hope," she gasped. "He's using Hope."  
  
Hope? The words made no sense to Harry at all. How could Hope be involved in what was happening to her mother? He didn't stop to think, and stretched his hands out for their child.  
  
He recoiled almost at once. Hope was burning like a furnace, the raw heat surging from her tiny body was unbearable to the touch. Ginny clung tighter to her, fissures of pain lining her face.  
  
"Never!" she hissed at Voldemort.  
  
Harry understood. He steeled himself, and reached to take his daughter. The furious blistering agony shot from his hands upwards, the hurt was almost more than he could bear, but he had to hang on. He had to. He pulled Hope tight to him, knowing what this would do. The volcanic heat erupted through his chest, his nerve endings exploding as the surge hit him, and the flow of pain pulled him downwards. A dim thought was the only thing left in his mind as the ferocity intensified. He loved Hope. He had to hold on.  
  
Laughter. The mirthless laughter of victory that had haunted his dreams for so long rang out, seeping through his remaining consciousness. Slow, purposeful footsteps drew nearer. There was nothing he could do. Nothing.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" he heard the high voice cry in the distant mists of reality. Ginny gave a yell of protest as he wand was undoubtedly whipped from her hand.  
  
Hope stirred against him, whimpering fretfully. The pain intensified, but somehow Harry forced himself back to his feet, his head spinning as he blindly faced his destiny. The room blurred and swayed before him.  
  
"Don't be a fool, girl!"  
  
A blur of red swung forwards, struggling with and fighting the wizard who towered above her. She might not have her wand but she wasn't going to give up easily, and neither was he.  
  
"Deicio!"  
  
Ginny's slight form was easily lifted and flung back hard against the hospital wing wall, slithering down it into a crumpled heap.  
  
"No!" she gasped, clutching her ribs and wincing as she scrambled back to her feet. The figure of the most evil wizard the world had ever known was approaching them, his eyes glowing a far brighter red as he neared Hope, his wand extended. "Not Hope! Please. Please, anything but Hope. You can't." The last was a desperate plea, hysteria rising in her tones, tugging at his robes and begging to save her daughter.  
  
Voldemort laughed coldly and knocked her viciously to the floor.  
  
"Let the child go, Harry," he demanded.  
  
"Not likely," Harry yelled back.  
  
"I see you have learnt nothing," Voldemort's scornful tones dripped like syrup. "There is nothing to protect you now, Harry. No mother's spell, no Dumbledore, no charm bond… Just you and I…"  
  
A wave of his wand and a muttered incantation made a burst of pain shoot through Harry's scar, a bolt of lightning slashing straight through his forehead. He heard Ginny hiss in a gasp of pain, dimly saw her clutch at her wrist and knew what must be happening. The charm bond they shared had been severed. His heart plummeted. What could he do now? The pain from holding Hope and in his scar was overwhelming; he felt dizzy and sick. He could barely see. But he had to think. Had to think. There had to be something. Something somewhere. Somehow.  
  
"Wizard's duel?" he hazarded wildly. "Leave Ginny and Hope out of it for now. Let's settle this between us once and for all. I'll use Ginny's wand if you'll give it to me."  
  
"How very honourable," the sarcasm was evident in the chilling tones. "Very well, I accept. You may have the wand after you give the child to its mother."  
  
"Harry, you can't," Ginny gasped, clinging to him. "What if…?"  
  
"I have to," he murmured, kissing her by her ear. He whispered urgently, "I love you both. This is the only way, but if it goes wrong, get out of here as fast as you can."  
  
Hope was cooling down quickly as she was released from Voldemort's spell, and he gently eased her across into Ginny's trembling arms. She seemed to be awake now, wriggling in her blankets and making little gurgling noises. Before Ginny had got a firm grip on her, there was a sharp tug and she was wrenched from their grasps, levitated in mid-air before the Dark Lord. The sinister smile widened and a hiss of pleasure escaped the slit of a mouth; she was his.  
  
"No!" Ginny screamed and launched herself at her daughter, but a fierce wall of flames sprang up around Voldemort and Hope, barring her way.  
  
"Harry?" Ginny yelled, tears flooding to the surface and spilling over. "We've got to do something."  
  
Harry looked at the wall of fire, orange and yellow tongues blazing ferociously to the ceiling of the hospital wing barring their path to their daughter. It stretched in all directions as far as they eye could see. He tried the dousing charm, but to no effect. There was no way through, Voldemort had made certain of that. He looked at Ginny and gulped… There was one way through.  
  
"Let's," he said, jerking his head towards the flames, his stomach flipping itself into somersaults.  
  
She nodded and grabbed his hand, clinging on tightly for dear life. Without a further word they rushed forwards, straight into the inferno. Eyes screwed tightly shut against the blistering burning of the flames Harry forced himself to keep running onwards. It seemed to go on forever. Stride after stride the flames attacked them more and more, robes alight by now. It was like a nightmare, their limbs moving ever more slowly as if they'd been weighed down by lead as the urgency of their task increased. Lungs stung as they struggled to breathe the fiery air.  
  
Eventually they fell through into the space within, gasping for breath, skin stinging in agony, oozing with fresh burns. Harry could barely see through his glasses, but lifted his wand desperately as he heard the beginnings of a spell he'd give his own life to prevent.  
  
"Avada Ke…"  
  
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tom," a voice he recognised instantly sounded calmly across the situation.  
  
"You?" Voldemort hissed as the distinctive figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared out of nowhere. Harry suddenly remembered encountering Dumbledore by the Mirror of Erised way back in his first year. He hadn't seen Dumbledore either then, but what was more important right now, more than anything else, was that Dumbledore was standing right beside Hope. Dumbledore would help. He glanced at Ginny, who was watching the situation, eyes wide open with terror, little fragments of flame still burning in her hair.  
  
"You're a fool," Voldemort said with utmost distain. "Age has addled your brain."  
  
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, with a slight inclination of his head in acknowledgement. "But I would strongly suggest that you don't continue with your current course of action. All actions have consequences, Tom. My greatest hope was that you would have understood that by now."  
  
"It's not like that," Voldemort laughed, more high-pitched than ever. "There is only power, and those too afraid to take it. That power will be mine."  
  
"Power is an illusion," Dumbledore said gently. "It is a mere temptation for man, but something that can so easily crumble to dust beneath your fingers when you least expect it. Even when you think you have it, it is not true; power controls you, not the other way round."  
  
"You're too afraid to take the power that could have rightfully been yours," Voldemort hissed. "I am not. This final action and the world will be mine."  
  
"Some things are greater than power," Dumbledore reminded him. "Love for instance. Lily Potter showed you that almost eighteen years ago."  
  
"Love is nothing but weakness," Voldemort snapped, turning his attention again to the task he had planned. "Look at those two. They can't even think straight because they're acting through pure emotion. What good is that to them?"  
  
"It is all the good in the world," Dumbledore said softly, smiling at Harry and Ginny.  
  
"I've no time for this rubbish," Voldemort said dismissively, and lifted his wand to Hope again. A cry of anguish broke through Ginny's lips and she began to scramble forwards. Dumbledore lifted his hand, preventing her movement. His blue eyes shone, clear as the summer sky, urging them to be still and trust.  
  
Harry pulled Ginny tightly into his arms, wincing with pain. He couldn't watch. He trusted Dumbledore with all his heart, but to ask them to do this… He couldn't. It was his daughter. Tears flowed, the unspeakable ache in his heart choking in his throat. How could Dumbledore…?  
  
"Please reconsider," Dumbledore said softly. Voldemort shook his head slowly, the red eyes glowing more maliciously than ever.  
  
"You bumbling old fool," he sneered. "Nothing could stop me now."  
  
He turned to Hope, and stared at her tiny form, still suspended in mid-air before him. She cooed at him, wriggling in her blankets and lifting her arms a little. Harry bit his lips together to stop himself from yelling out and Dumbledore's softly nodding head kept him still. A long white finger extended from the spidery hand and clawed its way down her cheek, the smile of satisfaction increasing when he realised she had no effect on him.  
  
"Avada Kedavara."  
  
A blast of green light shot out of Voldemort's wand straight at their daughter. Screams pierced the air. Harry had no concept of whether it was himself or Ginny who had cried out, but he held tightly to her and watched in frozen horror. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't. Not to Hope. Please, no.  
  
"The charms's not working," Ginny sobbed in his arms. "I should be taking this, not her."  
  
The green shaft of light hit Hope, but her wriggling continued. She didn't collapse instantly into a lifeless heap as he'd seen happen to Cedric and the others since then. Harry stared, his heart pounding madly in his chest. Somehow their newborn child was fighting his curse. It wasn't affecting her.  
  
"Ginny," his breath shuddered out. She looked tearfully up at him and he nodded towards what was happening. The green light was gradually ebbing into a silvery sheen, an aura of silver shimmering round their baby. An expression of bewilderment crossed Voldemort's face, and he backed uncertainly away, only to be confined by his own wall of flame. The silvery glow was becoming stronger and stronger, shooting out in every direction. Harry held his breath, hardly daring to hope…  
  
"You see, now?" Dumbledore's voice was gentler than ever as he stepped closer to Hope. He too was covered in the silvery shimmer of light. Harry's brain suddenly hurtled into action. He'd seen that before. The night after Hope was born in the hospital wing, Dumbledore had been casting some enchantment. Was that… this?  
  
"Avada Kedavara," Voldemort's frantic voice pierced the skies.  
  
The green light shot out again, meeting the silvery one and without warning they shot upwards in a multi-coloured fireball, engulfing them all in its light before it exploded with a boom so loud it rocked the ground they were crouched on. Debris fell, stones and rocks and dust from above them, heavier and heavier. Harry buried Ginny under his arms and braced himself as everything turned black. 


	26. Epilogue: Face the Sun

_New author note at the bottom of the chapter!_

Epilogue: Face the Sun

_"__Move him into the sun--   
Gently its touch awoke him once,   
At home, whisp'ring of fields half-sown.   
Always it woke him, even in France,   
Until this morning and this snow.   
If anything might rouse him now   
The kind old sun will know."_

~ Wilfred Owen: Futility

*****

The laughter from the celebrations somewhere behind him rippled across the swaying grasses beyond The Burrow, twisting the knife even deeper into his heart. Harry sat alone on the ridge, beneath the gnarled oak tree on the ridge, staring out over the river valley, plucking restlessly at the long grass stalks around him. Two months had passed since... Two months: it seemed so far away and yet so close he could almost breathe in the same air as he had then.

He hugged his knees tightly towards him and watched the rays of sunlight play across the valley, catching the windows in Ottery St. Catchpole with a benevolent twinkle of an eye. The lump built in his throat. It should never have come to this: none of it should. He rocked slightly to and fro, the light breeze of summer brushing gently through his hair soothing his headache somewhat. On a day like this, he could still barely believe it; still didn't want to believe it could be true. The light sparkled against the bright blueness of the river.

_"He will stay, Minerva, because he needs to understand,"_ Dumbledore's voice echoed over the years. _"Understanding is the first step to acceptance, and only with acceptance can there be recovery."_

"That's fine for you so say," Harry shouted angrily at the thin air. "I _don't_ bloody well understand. I don't understand any of this at all. _How_ could you let it happen? There should have been another way."

There was no answer, just the gentle breath of wind swirling around him and the noise of the party carrying on in the background. He slumped his head in his hands, heart hammering wildly at his ribs as he fought off the emotions that threatened to engulf him. 

He could remember so little of what had happened, but it was so important. Brief snapshots were all he had and he'd gone over and over them in his mind, barely sleeping or eating as he tried to piece the jigsaw together. Dumbledore and Hope covered by the silvery sheen, the blast of green light shooting again from Voldemort's wand, and the high pitched scream of the killing curse rising in crescendo into the brightest of lights as the magic exploded. 

What came next was even hazier. Harry screwed up his face, willing himself to remember. The rattle of stones and hiss of dust, burying Ginny beneath him just in time before the ceiling caved in, chunks of masonry crashing suddenly down upon them. More and more. A scream for Hope. Pain shooting through his right arm as the bone was shattered. Blackness. Oblivion.

Death.

Somehow… surely somehow…?

He shifted restlessly, his eyes falling on the little copse of trees right on the bank of the river that was Ginny's favourite haunt, and his stomach churned. Last summer had been so happy; it would never be like that again. Not now. Not even in his most vivid nightmares had he imagined things turning out like this. It was so _unfair_!

He seized a stone from the ground beside him, swung back his shoulder and hurled it as far as he could, watching it whizzing through the sky before it thudded back to earth, bouncing erratically down the slope until it disappeared from sight.

"Harry?" the soft voice almost made him leap out of his skin. He swung round and gave a half-hearted grin to see her there.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. "I'll be back up in a few minutes. Just needed a bit of a breather."

"No rush," she said gently. "Room for another one?"

He shuffled up to make space, and she sat down beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder staring out across the valley in silence. There was nothing to be said.

After a while, he glanced across, almost surprised to see her there, her red hair sparking copper in the sunshine. She was paler than usual, but the burns had healed at last. No outward sign of what had happened remained, but they hadn't talked much since…

"Where's Hope," he blurted out suddenly, an irrational panic gripping his insides.

She whirled to face him, her dark eyes quickly searching his.

"With Mum," she said, reaching for his hand to reassure him. "She's fine. You know what Mum's like with her granddaughter. She's perfectly safe."

"Yeah," he admitted, trying to force himself to start breathing normally again. "It's just…" his voice trailed away and he looked at her helplessly.

"It's OK," she said gently, rubbing her fingers across his hand. "I do understand, you know."

He knew she did, but somehow there was this great chasm between them and he didn't know how to cross it. He stared down at his feet, wishing it wasn't like this. Silence fell about them once more, broken only by the leaves rustling overhead.

"Gin, I'm sorry!" The words burst out of him suddenly, startling them both.

"Harry, you've got _nothing_ to be sorry for," she insisted, shaking her hair back out of her eyes. "Look at me," she insisted, tilting his chin so that he met her gaze. He flinched. "Nothing," she reiterated firmly.

"All those people dead aren't nothing," he muttered gruffly, tearing his eyes away and kicking the dirt beneath his feet.

"No, they're not," she agreed. "But you couldn't have done anything to stop it."

"But I should have been able to, shouldn't I?" he burst out angrily. "The boy who lived, that's what everyone expects, isn't it? It should have just been me and him."

"You tried," she said, biting her lip. "Wizard's duel with my wand, remember?" She shook her head, eyes shining. "It was more than you he wanted, and I think all of us were prepared to die rather than see him in control. That attack on Hogwarts was so planned none of us had a chance to do anything."

"We knew he'd try something. We should have been better prepared," he insisted. "Why didn't we think they'd use the Chamber of Secrets tunnel? That passage had to go _somewhere_ if you followed it the other way."

"Dumbledore knew." Ginny's voice was barely a whisper.

The dull ache inside him increased to the point of torment. No one had spoken openly about Dumbledore since he'd regained consciousness back at The Burrow a few days after that final conflict. Hushed whispers had been silenced as he'd drawn near. No one had seemed to know what to say, except Dumbledore himself. A roll of parchment had arrived by owl a few days later, addressed to them both; a letter of explanation that Harry had found very hard to bear.

"Why do you think he did that enchantment?" he asked awkwardly. "He'd have known that night… that it would…"

"It's awful," Ginny bit her lip harder, fighting back the tears. "I s'pose he knew if it came to it… if _that_ was all left… then it would stop Voldemort once and for all. He tried to talk Voldemort out of it, you heard him," Ginny choked. "It was Voldemort who didn't listen." A strangled sob escaped. Instinctively, Harry reached his arm around her and hugged her. She stiffened at first, and then melted trustingly into him, nuzzling her head against his cheek. The secure warmth of her body, jogged his memories and he pulled her closer, rubbing her back reassuringly. 

"Must have been quite some spell," Harry murmured reflectively into her hair. "Substituting himself for Hope like he did, and mirroring the curse back onto Voldemort. He knew it would kill them both, but he still did it because the magic he harnessed was more powerful that way."

"You wouldn't have done any less if it had been you," Ginny looked up at him through a watery smile. "Whatever that silvery light came from can have only been good. He promised us that Hope would never be in any danger, and I believe him."

"He made sure of that," Harry said. He shook his head despondently, "I still can't believe he's dead."

"He knew what he was doing," Ginny's voice trembled, "And he's given us all a future. Voldemort is gone for good."

"I know," Harry could feel the awkward lump expanding painfully in his throat. A rainbow array of daylight fireworks exploded making stars fall in the sky around them. Laughter from the party wafted towards them on the breeze and suddenly Harry felt his eyes stinging. "He should have been here to see this…"

The world blurred in front of him, and Ginny hugged him tighter, sheltering him in her arms from the storm that raged inside him. Everything he'd been bottling up for so long broke free, burning tears at last spilling painfully over. He was dimly aware of Ginny's soothing tones, her caresses as they clung together for what seemed to be eternity.

Eventually, he let go, and ran his hands beneath his glasses, brushing the worst away. He took a deep shuddering breath. 

"Sorry," he said, giving her a lopsided grin, and noticing that her eyes were as red as his probably were.

"Don't be stupid," she retorted, sounding slightly croakier than usual but a lot more like her normal self. She grinned back and ruffled her hard through his hair.

"Hey!" he protested, batting her hand away and vaguely smoothing over the mess to it's normal haphazard state. "You don't want to spoil this hair style of sleek perfection, for our daughter's christening, do you?"

"I've missed you," she choked over the giggle that erupted.

Harry opened his mouth to point out that he'd not been anywhere, and then realised what she meant. He'd been brooding over the deaths of those he had loved, and had shut himself off from her and from Hope. She'd been waiting for him, hurting as much as he was.

"Ginny," he shook his head, wondering how anyone could love him as much as she did. 

Words were inadequate now as he gazed into those concerned dark brown eyes, remembering suddenly the fog of unconsciousness lifting, and life swaying back into focus a few weeks earlier. She'd been watching him then too, holding Hope in her arms, willing him to survive. Everything had hung in the balance for a while, and Harry suddenly realised with a jolt that things could have been even worse. Lots of people had lost members of their families; the Weasleys were no exception, as Bill had never been found. 

People he'd shared lessons with, spent the last seven years of his life with, even those who'd lived in the same dormitory as him had gone. Never to see them again was an ache that was hard to bear. Others, like Malfoy, were incarcerated in St Mungo's, insanity brought about by what they had witnessed happening to those they loved. There was a huge hollow in many lives across the wizarding world, but somehow they all had to find a way to go on. Maybe he could even take up supporting West Ham. A wry smile twitched the corner of his mouth as he imagines himself decked out in the blue and maroon striped scarf instead of his Gryffindor Quidditch robes. Dean would have laughed himself stupid at the thought. 

"We never did go house hunting in Hogsmeade, did we?" he said suddenly.

Ginny looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise and shook her head.

"Other things have been more important lately," she said quietly. "It doesn't matter. I can travel by Floo from here when school reopens, and Professor McGonagall said that's not going to be for another few months. I think a lot of the castle came down when… when…"

Harry nodded. He swallowed and steadied himself. He'd not been beyond The Burrow since he'd been brought there after Voldemort's downfall, but he had to. It was time to try and move on and create a life for them all.

"Would you like to…?" he asked hesitantly. "Just to see?"

"I would," she said, her face wreathed in a mass of shy smiles. "If you're sure."

"I think I can just about cope with that, Mrs Potter," he teased. His face lit up in a mischievous grin and he added, "I wonder if there are any with nice broom cupboards."

"Harry!" she protested, bursting into giggles at the intimation. 

He pulled her onto his knee and settled back, feeling slightly more at peace with himself than he'd done for quite some time. It was going to be difficult, but they'd manage it somehow and make sure Hope had a normal childhood. He smiled ruefully to himself, well, as normal as it could get. She was going to be in more books than he was now that the press had found out most of the details of Voldemort's downfall.

"Harry? Ginny?" A familiar yell was heading in their direction through the rustling grasses. They glanced up to see Ron bearing down on them. "Ah _there_ you are!" he exclaimed, seeing the pair of them curled up tightly together under the oak tree. He paused, uncertainty about whether or not he was interrupting something written all over his face. "Is everything ok?"

"We're coming back up," Ginny explained, wriggling off Harry's knee and reaching out her hand for his. "Just needed a bit of time. You know how it is."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, sobering instantly.

"Your Goddaughter's causing chaos, is she?" Harry asked, smiling across at him.

"Not Hope," Ron laughed, his eyes sparkling. "Snape!"

"He's not been on the mead again?" Ginny giggled, obviously remembering the previous evening and the rather adult version of the sorting hat song the Potions' Master had been singing. 

The Burrow had been fuller than usual following the destruction of Hogwarts, some of the injured being transferred there under the watchful eye of Madam Pomfrey. Snape had been one of them. He had been dug out of the rubble, barely alive, but had slowly regained his health and his bad temper over the past few weeks, complaining bitterly about lack of suitable reading material. Much to everyone's surprise, although he permanently looked very disapproving about Hope, he'd been discovered on several occasions reading to her in incredulous tones from one of her grandmother's gossipy _Witch Weekly_s.

"Come and see," Ron laughed, ducking back under the branches and setting off back through the meadow.

They hurried after him and clambered back over the fence into the Weasleys rambling and overgrown garden and paused for breath. Small groups of witches and wizards sat in clusters on the lawn, gossiping and enjoying the sunshine of the afternoon. It felt like he'd stepped into another, less real world somehow, than the one he'd found up on the ridge with Ginny. For a second it felt like none of it had ever happened. Ginny squeezed his hand.

"Come on," she urged, looking back over her shoulder. "Quick, before Uncle Bilius pins us down. He's stopped talking to Dad and heading this way. He could talk the hind leg off a donkey."

He grinned gratefully, and allowed himself to be tugged past various congratulations into the little kitchen at the back of The Burrow, where Molly Weasley was clattering around with food and drinks for the gathering of people.

"Late as usual, Potter?" the sarcasm dripped off the Potion Master's tongue. Harry bit his lips to stop himself from retorting. Some things never changed.

Snape shuffled slowly out of the shadows, injuries still not fully healed, clutching a small wriggling bundle of white blankets in his hands. "Yours, I believe. You were like this in Potions too, always got Weasley to disembowel your horned toads for you."

"It was a fair trade!" Harry protested at once. "I always prepared the spiders."

"Mmm," Snape intoned sceptically, passing Hope across into her father's extended arms. "Cleaned and changed. Although I do think you need to show a little foresight with these things, Potter. You always were one to let your cauldron boil over."

Harry almost dropped his daughter in shock.

"Y-You…changed her nappy…?" he stammered, as Hermione appeared through the door, fighting back the urge to giggle.

"Seems to be very efficiently done too," Ginny observed with a grin. "Not like your first one, Harry. I seem to recall that dropping off her when you picked her up."

Harry had to laugh. 

"I've got better at them since," he pointed out, gazing down at his daughter. She smiled back, a wide gummy grin, her emerald eyes alight with excitement to see him.

"Go on!" Mrs Weasley flapped her tea towel in their direction. "There isn't room to stand in here gossiping. You've got guests you should be chatting to." They headed obediently through the door into the warmth of the summer afternoon, and the christening party. Ron and Hermione disappeared quickly, arms wrapped closely round each other. They all felt this hurt, and it was going to be a long time before any of them took anything for granted again.

Harry breathed in the heady air and ran a thoughtful finger down Hope's cheek. She really was beautiful. She was the reason to go on. She was the future. Maybe Dumbledore was right and he did understand after all. Acceptance would take much longer, if indeed it ever came. 

Ginny's hand slid through his arm and he smiled down at her. His family. His heart skipped a strange beat. This was all he had ever dreamed of and more. The future was new and uncertain, but the future was theirs.

*****

_A/N: Thank you very much for reading all this and for the lovely reviews you've left all the way through the story. They have been incredibly appreciated and made me giggle and smile, even when it's been difficult finding the time to write. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. If anyone ends up reading the whole thing through again, I'm interested in what you make of it as a whole story, and I'm impressed at your persistence in reading all that again!_

_The quotation from Dumbledore in italics near the beginning is taken from GoF, and pretty much everything else is JKRs anyway._

_SEQUEL!_

There is currently a sequel to this story in progress although it is only posted on my personal web site. 'Home is where the heart is' can only be found at http://www.elenarda.com/home.htm and all my future stories will be posted there. There is an email list to notify people of updates. For more information, please contact me: socks@gryffindortower.net

Thanks for reading!

Imogen J


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